Live to Tell
by xX-Misty
Summary: The summer of 1998 brings shockwaves to Gene's world when Evan's book appears to be the catalyst for bringing an unorthodox addition to the station. While a traumatised artist is plunged into her past, Fenchurch East is more concerned by the death of a drug dealer on a familiar patch and the threat that - even without Keats at the helm - Fenchurch West has a dark side of its own.
1. Prologue: Hasta mañana

**Prologue**

"Guv?"

Gene looked up as Marci lurked in the doorway, engulfed by a box.

"Blimey," he declared, "It's the attack of the mutant walking killer cardboard!"

Marci waddled forward and finally dropped the box to the ground. It wasn't heavy as such but it was as awkward as Gene after eight pints.

"It's from Manchester, Guv," she explained, "they said you requested it –"

"_Ahh,"_ Gene got quickly to his feet, "Yes. Thank you, Nicey Spice."

Marci stepped back to appreciate just how large of a box it was.

"What is it?" she asked, "soft furnishings or something?"

"Soft something," Gene told her, "Goodbye, DC Fell."

"But I just want to see –"

"_Goodbye,"_ Gene said a little louder, "don't let the door hit yer leopard print leggings on the way out."

Marci huffed in annoyance and glanced at the box again. The not knowing was driving her crazy.

"Well if you need any help opening it –"

"That's alright, I'm a big boy now, they let me use scissors occasionally."

"If you change your mind –"

"You'll have to watch out for flying pigs first," Gene told her, "Goodbye, Marci.,"

Marci scowled a little and considered a comeback but decided it wasn't worth losing a limb or two for it so she turned around, marched forward and slammed the door behind her.

Gene waited a few moments to make sure she had gone. With a hint of hesitation he walked forward, peered onto the office and saw her staring through the glass. Giving her the finger, he dropped the blinds and turned around.

The box was waiting.

"Well then," he addressed it, "It's been a while." He began to circle it slowly, the anticipation building in his veins. "For years you've haunted me. I've seen the looks on their faces. The scorn in their eyes. Judging me. Laughing." He grabbed some scissors from his desk and began to score along the thick parcel tape holding the box together. "Thought this was a secret that would go to the grave with me… until the wrong bit of Bolly started spouting off and suddenly all people could see when they looked me in the eye was a –" he paused as the box opened and a mountain of fur stared back –"Big bloody bushy _bastard_ tail."

From the box he pulled the head. Its fixed eyes stared back at him. The rest of the squirrel costume followed suit. "But not," he said smugly, "any more."

He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, basking in the moment. This was _it._ He'd been waiting for this moment a very long time. _Six weeks_ it had taken them to track down the original costume, as per his request. Then another week to get out the stains. And now here he was. "Good morning, Tufty. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

X

There was a spring in Gene's step as he marched down the corridor. He felt as though he'd been waiting for this all his life. This would be a moment he would never forget, a day he would take to his grave in his heart, a story that he would pass down through generations so that all would know the greatest moment of his life.

Revenge was sweet.

He came to a halt outside the door, straightened his tie and cleared his throat before pushing it open and stepping inside.

"Gene," Simon looked up and saw him lurking there, "what's up?"

Gene's eyes positively shone with delight as his evil plan came to fruition. He gave a sly smile.

"Shoebury. A word."

~xXx~

She recognised the song from the opening note; as rich, strong and as stirring as she'd found it all those years ago. Of course, she hadn't listened to it in such a long time but the recognition was there, buried in the depths of her memory. The jolt in her chest as her heart rate started to increase in speed made her feel as though her body remembered it even before her mind kicked into gear. It had been instantaneous; the same second the bar hit her ears, her body responded.

Her eyes flew open like the lid on a jack-in-the-box as its song wound down. Instead of the jack jumping up from within, the opening of her eyelids revealed her pupils which were wide, dilated and ready to absorb the sight around her.

There was white. A _mass_ of white. Everything looked so bright, so clean, so unblemished. So innocent.

The world started to right itself as she slowly propped herself up on her arm. The dustsheet below her did nothing to mask the hard wooden floor underneath it and her hip and ribs bore the tenderness of someone who had been lying across it for too long. She slowly turned her head as far as it would go, her eyes taking in the room around her. The familiarity hit her like a punch in the guts. _She knew where she was_. She knew the room only too well. She'd spent a year of her life there; painting, sketching, building, _creating_. But no one was _creating_ there any longer. It had been almost ten years since the building had been demolished and houses now stood in its place.

She staggered and stumbled as she pulled herself to her feet, tripped over a bag and crashed against the alcove that separated the two large classrooms. The smell of the paint fumes was overwhelming. It was starting to sting her lungs and make her head spin. Or was that not down to the paint? What _happened_ anyway? How did she get there? She couldn't recall.

There was an open vat of paint beside her with a paint tray and roller standing next to it like some kind of still life which, had anyone entered the room, they might have mistaken it for. Wouldn't have been out of place after all. Perhaps it was a part of the upcoming art show.

The maze of boards all awaiting their second coat of white dazzled her a little and she blinked several times to clear her vision. The song that continued to play on the old, familiar radio she'd once spent so many hours listening to spent a shudder through her body. The memories contained in the melody were shattering. They almost brought her back down to her knees.

Her mouth was open as the sight confounded her and the shock of her surroundings brought a tremble to her body. Her legs felt weak and unresponsive as she tried to walk. She took a step and stumbled, all the time telling herself that this wasn't possible. This place did not exist any more, and even if it _did_ then she had no place in being there.

She stared down at her hands. Little _England_ flags were painted on her fingernails.

"_What –"_ she tried to whisper but there seemed little point on asking what was happening when there was no one around to hear.

_#...Do you still remember, how we used to be_

_Feeling together, believing whatever_

_My love has said to me…#_

She spun around and stared at the radio as the lyrics kicked in. Her heart started to pound again, even faster this time as her eyes were drawn to a hand-made poster on the wall;

'_WORLD CUP',_ it said, _ENGLAND Vs. TUNISIA. WATCH IN THE FINE ART HUT! WIDESCREEN TV! 1.30pm.'_

She looked back to her nails and then up at the clock. _1.45_. No wonder the place was deserted.

_#... Both of us were dreamers_

_Young love in the sun_

_Felt like my saviour, my spirit I gave you_

_We'd only just begun …#_

As the Spice Girls continued to sing she found her eyes drawn to the newspaper on which the vat of paint was standing. She carefully dropped to her knees and moved the bucket to take a better look at the headline that she could only see half of from a paper that had been saved from two weeks previously with the knowledge that the painting was about to commence.

'_GERI QUITS' _said the paper. '_June 1__st__ 1998_,' said the date.

She jumped back to her feet and spun around again, focusing back on the poster on the wall. This time she saw the date at the bottom;

'_Monday 15__th__ June 1998,' it said._

_#...Hasta mañana, always be mine…#_

"No," that was the only word on her mind. It was a statement. It couldn't be that day, it couldn't be that place and it couldn't be that year. "_No_," she said again, trying to convince herself.

She felt herself stumbling across to the window where she peered out at the fine art hut, spying the mass of students inside; all packed in like sardines in a can that was far too small, trying to catch a glimpse of the television screen. The day was clear and sunny and the bright sunshine reflected from the white walls and boards, blinding her further.

She turned around, her legs trembling with each and every step as she crossed back to the poster on the wall. Her fingers traced the date.

"_Two and a half weeks,"_ she whispered, "_it's two and a half weeks before –"_

She swallowed and closed her eyes tightly as she felt desperately sick, horribly claustrophobic and desperate; _desperate_ to get away. She didn't know where to, she didn't care, she just had to run.

_#...Viva forever, I'll be waiting_

_Everlasting, like the sun_

_Live forever, for the moment_

_Ever searching for the one…#_

The sound of the Spice Girls faded away into the distance as she fled from the hot room into the cool corridor, protected from the sun. Her legs took her at speed down the first staircase; her hands did their best to keep her steady on the rails while her feet flailed and stumbled down one flight then two, and finally to the door that led out of the building. She just kept on running; not towards the exit she knew but to the alleyway that ran along the back of the grounds and all the gardens along the road. She barely remembered the alleyway. She'd only used it once or twice so she knew, she absolutely _knew_ for certain that as soon as she ran inside it her memory would have nothing to work from and she would wake from whatever nightmare she had found herself inside.

Her feet pounded the ground. The alley drew closer. But as she flung herself inside it and turned to the left it just carried on stretching out before her with no hesitation, in utterly perfect detail. The feel of the rough wood of the fence against her fingers, the heat of the sun on her shoulders and the buzzing of the insects that swarmed the alley all told her what she didn't want to know; that it was real. That it was as tangible as the fear racing through her veins.

So she ran. She just kept on running. Because that was all that she could do in case, if she stopped for just a moment, that day would catch right up with her. She was _not_ going to live through that again.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Considering it's a year since I wrote this prologue way ahead of time and I've spent 12 months trying to work out what to say as the story arc begins, I'm seriously out of words. It's a day I wasn't sure was ever going to come.**_

_**The rating of this fic will move up to M at some point, and I'm about to upload the next chapter right away so don't think you're going crazy, there really are 2 chapters to start off with. A large amount of this fic updates in realtime (you'll notice today is actually 15**__**th**__** June, you have no idea how much I stressed about starting on schedule!) so on some days there may be 2 or even 3 chapters towards the end of the story. Thank you for reading and following this world.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes.**_

_**Everything else, is mine x**_


	2. Chapter 1: Of a Terrible Year

**Chapter 1**

"This is the most humiliating moment of my life."

Kim looked at Simon.

"Worse than kissing the Guv?"

"Worse than that."

"Worse than the '_trouser tent'_ graffiti all over the toilet walls?"

"Much worse."

"Not worse than when Bammo held the competition for the person who could get you with the most water balloons in a day?"

"Kim, I would so rather go through that again than go through this that I would not only _buy_ him the water balloons but I would gladly _fill_ them on his behalf."

Kim tried not to smirk.

"The tail is very fetching," she told him and Simon rolled his eyes and gave an angry growl. "Simon, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry!"_ she protested, waving her hands in half-hearted apology as he spun around to storm away, whacking her with a swish of his tail as he went. "_Oof!"_

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No you're not." Kim trotted a couple of paces as Simon walked away. "Oh, come _on_ Si, it's not _that_ bad!"

"I'm going to get laughed out of the college!"

"Kids _love_ Tufty!

"Yeah, _kids_ might!" Simon huffed, "These are headstrong, sarcastic, bolshie eighteen year olds who have been breathing in paint and glue fumes every day for the last two years!"

"You'll be fine," Kim sighed.

"No I won't!"

"All you have to do is stand there and gesture occasionally!"

"What do we have to lecture a bunch of teenagers about road safety for anyway?" Simon cried, "the kids in the primary school down the road I can understand, but a bunch of toffee-nosed Surrey art students –"

"_Hey,"_ Kim scowled, "I was an art student once!"

"Where do you think I'm getting my stereotypes?" Simon told her, _"Ow!"_

Kim rubbed her knee.

"For a squirrel you don't keep your nuts hidden very well," she said crossly.

She was aware of the thundering of feet echoing through the air, but she couldn't see who they belonged to. She didn't much care either. It was a hot, humid day and the last place she wanted to spend it was standing outside an unfamiliar Police station down in Surrey, awaiting further details before the afternoon's road safety lecture.

"No one's even going to come to this thing," Simon told her, "they'll all be watching the match. Which, by the way, is where _I'd_ like to be, not watching the world through the eyes of a squirrel."

"Spoiler alert. We won two-nil."

"Yeah, that's why I want to _watch_ it again. I wouldn't be so pissed off if we'd lost!"

The thundering of footsteps came closer and out of the corner of her eye Kim saw a rush of body parts as a woman tore out of the alleyway that ended beside them. She stumbled and staggered, limbs flailing, eyes wide and terrified.

"_Woah,"_ Kim gasped as the scrambling figure crashed into her and left her shaken and winded, "Woah, calm down. _Calm down!"_

The woman seemed blind to Kim's interference and ignorant to the grasp she'd taken of her wrist to try to cool her frantic actions.

"Let me go," she gasped as she finally realised. She tugged her wrist violently to shake Kim away and stepped back. "Let me _go,"_ she hissed a second time, somewhat unnecessarily.

_"Hey,"_ Simon began, scaring the woman further still as she made an attempt to escape and backed into a squirrel.

"Oh _shit,"_ she breathed, clutching her chest in shock. Her heart was thumping ferociously and her limbs trembling as her head moved back and forth more rapidly than a spectator at the Wimbledon final. "_Shit,"_ she declared again.

"Are you alright?" Simon asked her.

The woman just stared, her mouth open slightly, unable to part with any audible words.

"What's your name?" Kim asked her and although the woman turned to her she didn't say a word. "Your name? Madam?" Kim tried again.

"Um," the woman swallowed and struggled to breathe. Her eyes moved all around her, taking in every last detail of her surroundings. It was all so vibrant, so vivid, so real, and yet it hadn't looked that way in a very long time. _Fifteen long years._

"Are you lost?" Simon tried.

"Yes," the woman breathed, "I don't… I don't know where I am," she swallowed, trying to stop herself from shaking and having little success. "I mean... I know where I am, but…" her voice rose as she finally forced out the words that terrified her to admit, _"It's not possible."_

Kim turned to Simon.

"Uh oh," She whispered.

"_None_ of this is possible," the woman tried to step backwards but found herself backed against a wall, "None of this… it doesn't _look_ like this. Not any more.

"Try to calm down," Simon told her. Her face turned to him and she attempted to ask him who he was but her question came out as,

"W-why are you a squirrel?"

Simon's face reddened further. He was already beetroot coloured from the heat, now he'd upped the shade a notch or two.

_"I am not usually a squirrel_," he hissed through gritted teeth, "I just have a very sadistic boss."

"Do you work here?" Kim asked her seriously, nodding towards the police station behind them.

_"Here?"_ the woman gave a laugh that was full of disbelief, "No."

"Which station do you work at?" Simon asked.

_"Station?"_ the woman shook her head, her brow creased and her breath shallow and fearful, "do I _look_ like a police officer?"

Simon would have said no – the woman's face was adorned with jewellery and her skin full of ink, but since Kim was only inches away that statement was a little cloudy.

"Where _do_ you work?" Simon asked her.

"A-at home," the woman whispered.

Kim glanced at Simon, her brow crumpled in confusion.

"You fight crime from the comfort of your arm chair?" she asked incredulously

"No, I told you, I'm not a," the woman's whole expression crumpled with the strongest sense of bewilderment she'd ever felt, "police officer."

"Are you in CID?" Simon asked.

_"No!"_

"What _do_ you do then?"

The woman stared at them both, lost for words, caught like a rabbit in headlights crossed with a child who'd just been told Santa Claus wasn't real.

"Art," she whispered eventually. She flinched as a thousand memories flooded her mind at once, the stark white walls of the college coming back to her like a movie playing through her head. She swallowed and finally looked Kim in the eye. "I do art," she whispered.

Kim hesitated.

"Art?" she repeated. She glanced at Simon who looked almost as bewildered as the woman in front of them. "You _do_… _art?"_

"Yes," the woman swallowed, glancing back at the alleyway. Only moments earlier she'd been at the other end of it, slipping out the back way from the grounds of a college that she knew was there no longer. There was a stabbing pain in her chest where it hurt too much to think about it. It hurt too much to go back there in her mind, let alone in body. She turned back to Kim, begging for answers as she admitted, "I don't know where I am… I mean, I know _where_ I am… but I don't know how it's possible."

"_You do art?"_ Kim repeated, fixated on that fact.

The woman stared at her.

"Y-yes," she said. Of all the strangeness about the day that was _not_ the part she was most focused on.

Kim turned to Simon.

"She _can't_ be then," she said.

"Can't b what?" the woman asked anxiously.

Kim turned slowly back to her. She didn't know what to say. All she knew was that this was a world for coppers, not artists, despite her side-line in body mods.

"Have you taken something?" she asked, "have you been drinking, or –"

"_What?"_ the woman cried, _"no!"_

"What's your name?" Simon asked and the woman seemed to hesitate, staring back in the direction of the college.

"Do you have any ID?" Kim asked.

The woman found herself reaching for her pockets even though she couldn't control her hands well enough to take anything from them. All she found in there anyway were tissues.

"I… there was a bag," she whispered, "but it's back at the college… I left it at the college."

"The art school?" Kim asked and the woman nodded. "You're in luck. That's where we're heading. We can escort you to pick up your bag and treat you to a lovely road safety demo while you sober up.

"_I'm not pissed!"_ the woman cried.

"Come on," Kim took a gentle hold of the woman's arm to lead her away but she tugged and screamed as panic filled her eyes

"_No,"_ she cried, "what do you think you're doing? Let _go_ of me!" As Kim held her a little more firmly she tugged ad writhed more, using her flexibility to slip completely from her grasp before Kim grabbed her by the other arm. _"No!"_ she cried again, "Don't take me there. I _can't_ go back there," her screams grew louder until they stung her throat, "You _can't_, it's not _real_, it doesn't _exist_ any more!"

Kim caught Simon's eye again. Despite the stranger's insistence that she wasn't a police officer her behaviour and the words she screamed were sounding strangely familiar. Simon looked concerned too, or as concerned as an oversized, sweltering squirrel could possibly look.

"Is that where you've come from?" he asked her, "The art college?"

"That's where she left her bag, keep up Tufty," Kim sighed, finally grasping the woman's wrists firmly enough to pull them behind her back. "Now, are you going to calm down?"

_"Let me go!"_ the woman cried.

"Not until you give us your name."

"My name is Em, OK?" the woman cried.

"Where do you live?"

"Not _here_. Not any more."

Kim glanced at Smon.

"You said you've come from the college" she said, "you seemed to be in a hurry."

"So would _you_ be," the woman's voice started to drop and broke with staggered breaths and unfallen tears.

"What were you running from?" Kim asked her and finally the woman's struggling ceased. She hung her head, scarcely able to breathe.

"_The past,"_ she whispered.

This time when Kim and Simon looked at one another they both knew that whatever she said, whatever the stranger might list as her day job, she was one of _them_.

"Bugger," Kim muttered.

Neither had been expecting the next words out of Em's mouth.

"It's the book, it's the bloody _book!"_ she cried.

"What book?" Simon frowned.

"The bloody book about the stupid _police_ thing and the stupid _comas!"_

Kim let go of Em and took a large step backwards.

"What?" she whispered.

"I should never have read that bloody book," Em chastised herself. As though something finally slotted into place she found herself staring at Kim and her heart almost stopped. "_My god,_ she whispered.

Kim hesitated Her first instinct was to see if her new lip piercing was bleeding but when it seemed to be intact she realised the strange lady was staring for some other reason.

"What?" she felt a shiver travel down her spine.

"No," Em whispered. She took a step back and shook her head ferociously, "No, _no_, this isn't possible."

"Stay calm," Simon said, holding up his massive red paws only to have them beaten away by Kim.

_"That's not going to help!"_ she hissed as Em began to shake profusely.

"No, no, you can't be here, you _jumped_…"

Kim turned cold. Her blood felt like it froze in her veins and her stomach churned as the words started to sink in.

"_What?"_ she whispered.

"Y-you jumped. It said so, you were on the news and," Em paused as she swallowed, "the book… the last chapter…"

Kim could barely breathe as she forced herself to ask.

"What book?"

Em closed her eyes for a moment.

"It's by that twat… beard model Evan White."

Kim closed her eyes. Her head began to spin a little and she had to work hard to keep upright.

"_Shit,"_ she whispered as her hand rose to her forehead.

_"Kim,"_ Simon tried to hold her steady but his paws were too clumsy, "Kim, what's _wrong?"_

Kim felt nauseous and dizzy but stayed on her feet.

"_Bloody Evan,"_ she hissed, "and that bloody _book."_

"That's what this is," Em hissed, "I was reading the book, _that's_ why I'm dreaming this."

"_Oh god,"_ Simon groaned. He didn't understand how some arty idiot had made her way into a world reserved for coppers or who let Evan write a book but that was a statement he knew only too well.

"Why did I read that bloody book?" Em whispered. Her energy was depleting and she could no longer stand. She crashed down heavily on the low wall outside the police station, struggling to stay awake, _"it's got inside my head."_

__Kim's dizziness began to clear a little and as she looked back at Em all she could see was a woman in fear and pain.

"Em?" she asked quietly, "are you OK?"

Em's body folded over as the shock overcame her and breathless sobs wracked her frame. No, she _wasn't_ OK. In fact she wasn't sure anything would be OK again.


	3. Chapter 2: Living out your Dreams

**Chapter 2**

"Could really do without this, today of all days."

"Like there's _ever_ a good day for it."

"But _today! _In the bloody _squirrel_ suit!"

"Don't you think this is probably the _best_ time for someone to see you in a squirrel suit?" Kim asked Simon, "when they're in seven shades of shock and probably won't even remember it tomorrow?"

Simon glanced around where Em was sitting in the back of the car, staring blankly ahead, then looked back at Kim.

"Are we taking her _with_ us?" he asked.

"We cant leave her in the midday heat with nowhere to go," Kim hissed.

"She isn't even a_ copper!"_

"Yeah, and you're a squirrel," Kim felt the need to remind him.

Simon scowled angrily.

"Only on a very temporary basis," he seethed.

"Can you just pull your tail in so I can get on the road please?" Kim sighed as Simon tried to haul his fluffy appendage in the car.

"_Fine_," he mumbled, "just make it quick."

"_Yeah, yeah,"_ Kim sighed as she turned the key in the ignition.

"And I'm talking Gene Hunt-speed driving," Simon warned, "it's sweltering in this bloody car."

"You can always walk," Kim threatened.

"While rowdy art students point, laugh and attempt to fashion a collage out of my _tail?"_ Simon cried, "No thanks,"he tried to fold his arms but in the suit it was near impossible. "Just go."

Kim sighed again and pulled out of the car park. The little police station was somewhat smaller than Fenchurch East and had a far more understated entrance. The shade of the trees had been greatly appreciated and the little garden had given them something to look at but it was all a little too quaint and sleepy for their liking. The most severe crime reported whilst they were attending the briefing about local schools and colleges wad the woman who attended to have her girlfriend arrested for refusing to buy her a singing Sharon Osbourne toy.

"This is ridiculous anyway," Kim told him, "we'll get there, no one will turn up because they're all watching the match, we'll have an awkward conversation with some arty prat in a cravat and a tweed jacket for five minutes and then we can bugger off to watch the rest in the pub."

"_You can watch it at the college."_

Kim and Simon exchanged a surprised glance as Em finally spoke. She'd been silent for so long that they'd assumed she was either half-unconscious or in a state of severe shock.

"Sorry?" Simon frowned.

Em's stare turned to him but she didn't quite look him in the eye.

"At the college," her voice was low, barely heard above the engine of the Fiat, "you can watch the match." She swallowed and closed her eyes, a chilling sensation passing through her limb by limb, "just don't…" she looked away as her words became quieter and she spoke more to herself than to anybody else, "don't watch it in the fine art hut. They've got the bigger telly, but," she flinched, "it's packed in there, it's… baking, so you'll want to go to cultural studies. You won't find anyone really in there, except for a couple of girls at the back. And the cultural studies tutor." She shook her head slightly and stared at her knees, "and the _harbinger of doom_ comes in at one point, but –"

Kim and Simon frowned as she trailed away.

"Thanks… for that," Simon wasn't sure what else to say.

Silence decided for most of the short journey to the art college, filed only by quiet mutterings about Simon's sudden hatred for squirrels and Kim trying and failing not to laugh at his plight. Eventually they arrived and pulled up outside of the crumbling main building.

"I'll go in and tell them we're here," Kim told them, "Em, get your bag and wait in the car."

Em drew her knees to her chest, the heels of her boots resting in the edge of the back seat.

"_I think I'll just stay here,"_ she said quiet;y. The surroundings were choking her, the familiar buildings taping her on the shoulder with reminders of their existence. She could smell them; the paints, the glue, the printing ink, _her past. _The scent made her choke.

"If _she's_ staying here then I'm staying too," Simon folded his arms.

"You cant stay here, you're _squirrel extraordinaire,"_ Kim sighed, folding hers.

"I don't want to be seen!"

"This place is _dead!" _Kim cried, pointing around as Em shuddered at her words, "_look_ at it! There's no one in sight because they're all watching the _match."_

"So why don't we skip out on this, head off and do the same?" Simon begged, "come _on_, Kim, there was a pub on the corner. We could go there!"

"I thought you didn't want to be seen as a squirrel!"

"By now they're probably too pissed to realize," Simon commented. He sighed, "I could pretend I'm a bloody mascot."

Kim stepped out of the car, shaking her head.

"I'm going to reception ," she said, "I want you _out_ of the car by the time I get back. And Em," she looked at the scared, lost stranger in the back, "get that bag." She noticed the girl stayed right where she was, "get the bag before someone mistakes it for a bloody _art_ installation."

She slammed the door and stomped away to the main building, the door creaking a little as she stepped inside. Em stayed still in the back of the car, staring at the back of Simon's head as it poked out of the costume, beads of sweat rolling down thes back of his neck. Her eyes slowly moved from side to side, taking in the grounds that she never thought she would see again; the shade from the cherry trees, the woodchips lining the garden, the telltale splatters of paint, or blood, where someone's fine art project had gone wrong. She shuddered even though the day was hot.

"This place hasn't even existed for ten years," she whispered.

Simon tried to glance around but he couldn't move that far in his squirrel costume, so he had to settle for looking at her in the rear view mirror.

"You'd better get your bag unless you want DCI Stringer to make it so that _you_ don't exist any more," he said

Em swallowed as she looked at his reflection in the mirror, the bright blue eyes and the dark blonde curls. He looked familiar, _really_ familiar. She'd seen him somewhere. Was it on TV? She bit the inside of her cheek as she slowly worked out where it was.

"A-are you Simon Shoebury?" she whispered.

Simon hesitated.

"Yes," he said, "DCI Simon Shoebury.

Em shook her head, a little more violently with every turn.

"_But you're dead,"_ she whispered.

Simon's first instinct was to ask how she knew, the second was to comment that he must be in hell if the damn squirrel suit was anything to go by. But he knew the drill and neither of those comments were appropriate.

"I'm sitting right here, breathing sweating and feeling like I want to disappear down a manhole so no one sees me in this stupid costume," he said, "I _think_ I'm pretty much alive."

"I _saw_ you," Em whispered, "on the news."

Simon tensed up.

"Sometimes we have to handle press conferences –"

"The Jim Keats thing."

That did it. Squirrel suit or _no_ squirrel suit, Simon turned his head around.

"_What?"_

Just hearing the name sent a clash of emotions through his soul; the horror and the fear of the monster who'd tried to destroy him and the burning feeling of desire for the man who was trying to fight his way out from under that evil shadow. It caused him to squirm around in his suit, glad that the furry body hid the more unwanted effects.

"_Dispatches,_" Em said quietly, "It is you, isn't it?" she paused, realizing that she was starting to shake again. What if she was wrong? She'd feel so stupid. God, she hated feeling so uncertain. "That twisted man… Jim Keats. The hospital, the stalking… it _is_ you, isn't it?"

Simon swallowed and turned to face the front again.

"Yes," he whispered, "yes, it's me."

Em shook her head again.

"But you're _dead,"_ she insisted. This time Simon didn't reply as she watched his eyes turn downward in the mirror. He didn't know what to say to her any more than she knew what to say to _anyone_ in this strange place. Slowly she reached out and very softly poked him in the back of the neck. His skin felt hot and clammy to the touch and slightly prickly where part of it had been shaven at his last haircut. He spun around crossly, reaching up to grab the spot.

"_Ow!_" he cried and she shrunk back in her seat guiltily.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. She stared at her hands, breathing deeply. Her stomach churned and she felt like she wanted to throw up. _Fucking anxiety,_ it was overtaking every inch of her body. She didn't deal well with the unexpected. All she wanted was to curl up, close her eyes, fall asleep and wake up back in her own home. She glanced out of the window, just about catching a glimpse of Kim's jeans through the double doors as she stood at the reception window, talking to someone about the road safety lecture.

"Is that Kimberley Stringer?" she asked quietly.

"Kim," Simon said quickly, "don't even _think_ about calling her Kimberley, shell have your head off quicker than you can blink."

Em's eyes widened as she sank down lower in her seat. This was all a bit too much for her.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "they just called her Kimberley in the book."

Simon seemed to bristle.

"There _is_ no book," he said a little flatly.

"Yes there is," Em rubbed her hands together to give herself a distraction. "I've been reading it, over and over, stupidly." She rolled her eyes, angrily cursing herself for doing it "Been a long time since I've been obsessed with something. Not _this_ much, anyway." She was jabbering but she couldn't help it. When she was nervous she tended to do that. "So fascinating. The reports. The near death experience. The suicides. Everyone linked up." She shook her head, "shit, it was the fan fiction, wasn't it?"

"What fan fiction?" Simon didn't know who the stranger was but he was starting to wish she'd shut up.

"The splatfics," Em explained, "an off-shoot of the beard fics. I mean. I can't _stand_ the beard modeling stuff but then when I heard about the book it was just so fascinating, I got really into the fandom."

"_The what?"_ Simon's expression grew more bewildered with every moment.

"Is this my punishment?" Em whispered, "for treating it like some kind of…" she shook her head, _"TV show?_ Shipping real people?"

"Shipping people where?" Simon frowned, for a moment wondering whether there was some human trafficking going on until he realized what she meant. "What, _relationships?"_ he cried, shuddering at the thought of anyone writing fiction about him in the first place, much less fiction of a certain nature.

"I suppose it was inevitable," she said quietly to herself rather than to anyone else, "I've been writing so much _splatfic _and watching the documentaries on repeat. Now that I must be in some sort of –" she began to randomly poke the ceiling of the car, "- _coma_ myself I'm dreaming about the kind of place that I've been writing and reading _about."_ She shook her head. "Shit, I'm lucid dreaming. I'm no good at this. Even when I know I'm in a dream I can't make stuff happen."

"I can make _violence_ happen if you don't get out the car and pick up your bag," Simon threatened, then realized he sounded more like Kim. "Shit, I've been spending far too much time with certain members of the team." He shifted himself round as far as he could in his seat and looked at Em seriously. He knew that she was confused and scared, but he also knew she wasn't like the others. He didn't know how to handle this, but he had to try to take control. "Look," he began a little more calmly, "nether of us want to go in there, but we both have to. If you find your bag and find out where you live then you can go home, get changed, take a nice long shower and get an early night, and tomorrow you'll feel much better." It was crappy advice and he knew it but he also knew he had to act as naturally as possible. He opened the door and managed to force one of his furry legs out of the car. "Come on," he said, "if I can walk through a college as a squirrel then you can go and pick up a bag."

Em stared at him incredulously but realized he was serious. She breathed in deeply, her anxiety still high, and let her breath out slow;y. She felt bewildered, trapped and scared but she didn't see she had an alternative. _Follow instructions_. Maybe that was all she could do. She steeled herself and took another deep breath in.

"OK," she said quietly.

Simon looked back at her.

"OK?" he repeated and she nodded.

Slowly she opened the door and stepped out of the Fiat, the sun beating down on her shoulders. She inhaled a deep lungful of air and myriad familiar scents send spasms of nostalgia through her body. She could smell the pollen from the trees, the scent of friction on wood from the 3D building, the various paints and glue being used to prepare the show, even the 'creamy' vegetable soup from the machine in the refectory. Her senses were overwhelmed, even more so as her eyes took in every detail; the _Chiltern House_ sign above the main entrance, the long grasses blowing in the soft breeze, two poorly marked parking spaces and the green fence posts, the only part of the complex that still remained a decade and a half on. She flinched and swallowed as nausea churned and swirled in her chest and the memories of a place she'd loved and hated in equal measures overwhelmed her, taking her legs from under her with one long, anguished cry that left her crashing to the floor at the same moment Kim emerged from the building. She stared first at the fallen woman, then at Simon.

"I hope you didn't kill her with too many comments about nuts," she accused.

"She just flaked out on me!" Simon protested, "not like it's the first time it's happened!"

Kim rolled her eyes as Simon made a vague attempt at picking Em up from the floor.

"Here," she mumbled, "if you want a job done properly…" she crossed to them both and bent down, "don't leave it to a giant squirrel."

Together they loaded Em into the back of the car and stepped back, closing the door,

"Do you think she'll be OK in there?" Simon asked.

"She'll have to be," said Kim, "we've got a talk to give."

"Shit," Simon sighed, "I was hoping they'd canceled it."

"No such luck," Kim told him. She unfolded the sheet of paper she'd been given and studied the map upon it. "Woman behind the window said they're all waiting there already. A hut round the back called Spartan One."

"Let's get this over with then," Simon mumbled, fluffy arms crossed, "so death by humiliation can stop me dying from heat stroke instead."

~xXx~

"Is… this… _it?"_

Simon scowled through his Squirrel head as he and Kim stood at the front of the hut. Many chairs were stood opposite them but of the hundred or so the hut comfortably seated only five of them were filled; three by tutors, one by a skull and one by a boy called Martin Weikop who, despite being the star prodigy of every tutor in the college, was destined for a life doing great things redesigning the price tickets in B&Q.

"I think it is," Kim glowered. Apparently football was more important to art students than road safety. Whoever would have thought it?

"Right," Simon began, his tail wobbling as he spoke, "let's get this over with."

Kim sighed internally. This was a nightmare.

"Fine," she said. As she opened her mouth to invite the audience to guess how many road traffic accidents occurred in surrey caused by pieces of artwork falling out of portfolios and covering up windscreens, an almighty cheer came from a building nearby as the first goal of the match occurred.

Simon and Kim turned to stare at each other, or as well as they possibly could when one of them was a giant squirrel. The sound of elation wore away the last of their resolve.

"Right," Kim turned to the miniscule audience and said, "Don't get run over, kids." Then she turned back to Simon. "_Leg it!"_

The sight of a small blonde woman with a body full of art and a lanky squirrel with a body full of fur fleeing the room and following the sound of the cheers was one that those present – even the skull – would ever forget.

~xXx~

Cupping their hands against the glass and peering through, neither Kim nor Simon could see a thing.

"It's too crowded!" Simon complained, "there are too many people in there already! We can't even see through the window, let alone get in."

"Where did the new weird one recommend watching it?" Kim ashed him, "Culture and something?"

Simon tried to snap his fingers but ended up only rustling some fur.

"Cultural studies," he said quickly, "I saw a sign – come on." He beckoned Kim as he started to hurry away, "We can catch the replay if we're quick!"

Lucky for both of them the Cultural Studies room wasn't far away and they made it just in time to see the last replay through the doors at the back of the room.

"Why don't we go in?" Kim hissed, "it's practically empty."

"Yeah, _practically_," Simon agreed, "look. Do you want to walk in there and be laughed out the place by a couple of teenage girls and a man who looks like…" he frowned, "John Peel in a revolting orange jumper."

Kim raised her eyebrow.

"When it comes to dishing out fashion advice you're a fine one to talk," she commented.

"Oh, hang on," Simon hissed, "who's that?"

As they watched another tutor entered the room from the far end, walked into the centre of the room and announced grimly,

"_We're going to lose, you know," _before turning and leaving again.

Simon and Kim glanced at one another.

_"Harbinger of doom,"_ the said in unison.

It wasn't long before the end of the first half and Simon and Kim started to wander away.

"Let's just get back to the car and find another place to watch the second half," Simon suggested "a decent place. One where I can change back into a human being." He paused. "This costume's driving me nuts,"

Kim scowled.

"You just _had_ to say it, didn't you?" she accused.

~xXx~

"_Get the bag... just get the bag."_

Em trembled as she walked slowly up the staircase. What if she was stopped? What if they thought she was trespassing? How was she supposed to explain her presence? "Shit, I don't want to do this."

There was a nasty feeling inside her, grinding at her nerves. She couldn't breathe, could barely put one foot in front of the other, but she knew there was no escape from getting the bag. She remembered the things she'd learnt from reading the book, how all those officers had tried to glean any information they could from the few belongings they owned. Maybe there was something useful inside it? She couldn't deny that.

She shook her head as she climbed the familiar staircase. Her legs trembled with every step but she had to keep going. In the empty corridor her footsteps echoed all the way to the Graphics studio she'd fled less than an hour ago. The paint fumes made her feel heady and sick and the situation only added to that.

"_Just get the bag,"_ she whispered.

It was still there, the large red and white carrier with the small handbag tucked within. She slipped across the room and scooped it up, her heart racing. Why did she feel like she was stealing something that was apparently hers?

There were footsteps coming closer accompanied by female voices and Em didn't particularly want to encounter the girls, so she dashed through the walkway into the room next door, her hear pounding as she leaned against the wall for a moment to catch her breath.

"_One of my flags is chipping," _she heard one of the girls say.

"It'll still last longer than _we_ will."

"Don't say that! We're playing well!"

Em's legs felt weak and she struggled to stay upright. She had to leave, she couldn't stay. _Just dash through the other doorway. Run. They'll never even notice._

She heard the radio click on in the room next door and _Stayin' Alive_ began to play.

"_You're such a swot, why are we painting?"_

"_I just want to finish the last board during half time so we can leave after the match."_

"_No one else is staying."  
_

"_Someone's got to paint the boards." _There was a pause. "_You don't have to stay."_

Another pause.

"_Nah. I might as well."_

Em stared at her shoes as she heard the sound of paint transferring from roller to wall amongst the sound of the BeeGees warbling away. She knew she was going to regret it. She knew that more completely than she'd ever known anything else in her life, but she had to look. She had to see them.

Very slowly, tiptoeing a few centimetres at a time, she peered into the walkway and through to the room beyond. The two teenagers stood with their backs to her; the blonde in the red dress and the brunette in the jeans and the England shirt, side by side. They sang along to the music, pointing their rollers diagonally up and down with each note, laughing and messing around. There were as many splatters of paint in their hair as there were on the boards. They didn't care. They were happy.

That's what hurt most of all.

Em hung her head and left through the door of the second room. The teens didn't hear her. They didn't see her. They didn't know that she was there. And as for Em, she'd have done anything _not_ to be.


	4. Chapter 3: The World Will Smile With You

**Chapter 3**

Gene could tell from the hushed murmurs and distressed expressions that there had been more to worry about than how fetching Simon looked with a tail at the talk that afternoon. He'd been waiting all day for Simon's return - he'd been working on his squirrel jokes for at _least_ 6 hours - but their arrival had heralded strained expressions and hushed conversations, and the lack of gloating about Simon's predicament on Kim's part had been fairly strange too. Eventually Gene realised that something was going on but no one was going to provide him with the details until finally Alex tiptoed cautiously towards his door.

"Bolly," he began as he watched her enter, "tell me, have we finally converted this station into a morgue? Only, the way things are going I've been to livelier funerals."

Alex closed the door behind her and stepped hesitantly forward.

"Simon and Kim are back," she said quietly.

"I noticed," Gene told her, "question is, why isn't Stringer throwing bushy-tailed insults around and why hasn't Simon arrived to extract me giblets in anger?"

"There was a complication," Alex said quietly.

"Shoebury forget where he buried his hazelnuts?

"I think you should have a drink, Gene."

_Oh dear_.

"That doesn't sound good, Bolly," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. With that having been said, he wasn't one to need an excuse so he extracted a bottle from his drawer with a couple of glasses. "So," he began, "what happened? Shoebury get turned into road-kill on the way?"

"A new face arrived," Alex said quietly.

Gene hesitated. He waited for Alex to fill in further details but that seemed to be the end of it.

"Is that _it?"_ he challenged, "blimey, one day with a squirrel in the team and you've all bought into the amateur dramatics. It's not like it should have come as any surprise that Shoebury's got his eye on a bunch of nuts."

"It's not that simple Gene," Alex told him quietly, "they're not sure where she belongs."

Gene sighed This was fairly elementary stuff. The paperwork would be somewhere. He suspected that it was Simon or Kim's turn for a new face.

"This new girl," he began, "has she got above or below _six-point-five_ pieces of metal through her face?"

Alex hesitated

"Um above, I think," she frowned.

"She goes to Stringer then," Gene told her, "anyone who can strain tea with their face automatically goes to Metal Mickey. Just like anyone with a jumper that would make Noel Edmonds vomit comes under Simon's remit."

"It's not as easy as that," Alex said hesitantly and Gene felt a shiver creeping through his bones.

"I can't imagine why not," he said, waiting for Alex to explain. She took a deep breath and sat down, picking up the glass Gene had given her.

"They asked me to tell you because they knew you'd get mad and throw people against the filing cabinet," she began and Gene looked pale.

"That's comforting," he snorted.

"You're not going to like this," Alex told him.

"I didn't think I would."

Alex closed her eyes.

"She's not a copper."

Gene hesitated, his glass lifted halfway to his lips. Again he thought there was going to be another part coming but Alex's sentence ended right there. He wasn't sure where to go from there.

"What is she then?" he asked, "android? Clone?"

"She's an artist," Alex said quietly, "_apparently."_

Gene choked on his scotch and gave an uncharacteristic laugh before realising that Alex's face was as stony and serious as it had been a moment earlier.

"You can laugh now, Bols, the joke is over," He said but Alex shook her head.

"No, Gene," she said quietly, "she really is an artist. "

"A _piss_ artist?" Gene scowled.

"She appeared running out of an art college."

"She was probably worried Damien Hurst was going to slice her up for his next exhibition."

"_This is serious!"_

"You think I don't know that?" Gene seemed to almost pant for a moment, "you've been with me almost two bloody decades, woman, you should know I use humour as me defence mechanism! _You're_ supposed to be the psychiatrist!"

Alex didn't bother to correct him.

"She had a bag, Gene."

"_Whoop-de-do,_ call the papers."

Alex ignored that.

"In her bag was some ID."

"Did it win the Turner Prize?"

"She _is_ with us," Alex continued, "but not in the way we'd usually expect."

"She's come to improve the standard of the cartoons on the wall of the bogs?"

"New photofit artist."

Gene rolled his eyes.

"Can't be any worse than the one who gives all 'is photofits silly voices?" he asked He downed the rest of his scotch and closed his eyes momentarily. This worried him a lot more than he wanted to show. "So this… _arty farty_ woman. Is that what she does in two thousand and bollocks?" To his further horror Alex shook her head. _"Bollocks."_

"She has no connection with the force in any way, shape or form," Alex told him, "just a self-employed jack of all trades."

"And master of none," Gene slammed his glass on the table, "brilliant, just what we need. Another loose cannon, except this one has a _screw_ loose too.

"There's more," Alex admitted and cringed as she watched Gene starting to slowly combust internally, "she knows us. Every one of us. Me, you, Simon, Kim –"

"You got more children turning up out the blue for a holiday in the twentieth century?" Gene demanded, feeling slightly guilty as he watched Alex's face contort in sadness.

"No," she said quietly, "it's that bloody book. I _knew_ this was going to happen." She put her hand to her forehead, sighing deeply. "The book, the _Dispatches_ specials… she's seen them all, read the book from cover to cover, over and over again. She thinks this is a dream, that she's brought it on herself by being so engrossed on the story that she's dreaming herself here. Not dissimilar to the way I believed I'd taken on Sam Tyler's psychosis when I first arrived."

"Did you just call him a psycho?" Gene frowned.

"_Psychosis,"_ Alex corrected.

Gene didn't know what more to say. This was a new situation and one that, frankly, scared him witless. There had been some oddities in his world over recent times but for someone with no connection to the law to make an appearance had thrown him beyond comprehension.

"Better show her in then," he said eventually.

Alex hesitated, not sure that meeting Gene was going to help the young woman's fragile state, nor that meeting the woman in question was going to help _Gene's_.

"_Be nice,"_ she warned, getting slowly to her feet. He waited until Alex was out of earshot before he mumbled,

"That's a physical impossibility."

X

Em closed her eyes and breathed in very deeply and very slowly. The last couple of hours had been a whirlwind. Waking up in a place that no longer existed, meeting people she knew were dead, arriving in a world that she'd read about obsessively – she didn't know how to take any of it in. But there was one part above everything else that she'd read which scared her about her situation. She'd read about that _Hunt_ guy from the perspective of Sam Tyler in the first part of the book, then scraps collected from many sources by Evan to compile a wider picture from Alex, Kim and Robin's conversations, thoughts and documents. From everything she's read she knew one thing;

That he was the _one person_ she _really_ did not want to meet.

"DCI Hunt would like to speak with you."

Em grimaced as she heard the words she'd been dreading.

"I had a feeling he might," she mumbled. She suspected it was a little like bumping into the actor who played your least favourite character in a TV show. She got to her feet, slowly and shakily, stumbling a little as she followed the woman down the corridor. She didn't recognise her. She looked a bit like a Spice Girl but she hadn't featured in any of the testimonies in the book, nor in any edition of _Dispatches_.

She felt like a lamb to the slaughter as she followed the pretty woman through a large office with a chequerboard ceiling, desks all around her, faces turning to stare as she tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

"_None of this is real, none of this is real,_"she murmured over and over which garnered her a strange look from her guide. The woman knocked on the door and opened it a crack.

"Guv," she said, "it's the new girl."

Em's heart started to speed up with anxiety as she found herself pushed gently towards the door. She didn't want to step through. From everything she'd read, meeting Gene Hunt was comparative to the personification of finding out you were dead or dying and she still clung desperately to the hope that this was just a dream.

"Are you going to close the door or are you making a bloody installation?"

Em felt her anger prickling her veins. That was all he said, all he _needed_ to say and she had already made up her mind. She did not like this man. She tried to keep her temper under control as she closed the door and turned back round.

"Don't stand on ceremony," he barked, "sit."

"I'm not a dog," she blurted before she realised it probably wasn't a good idea to upset him. There had been three full chapters on the book dedicated to his filing cabinet technique and she didn't really want a turn. Trying to atone for her words she slipped into a chair and nervously laid her hands on her knees, staring at the foreboding figure. "I'm sorry," she said, partly because she felt a genuine sense of guilt and partly because she was worried about the way Gene's eyes had shifted to the filing cabinet, "I'm sorry, I'm…" she hesitated, shaking her head, "I'm really sorry, I'm not used to…" she wasn't even sure how to put it, "to _working_ here. I'm self employed so I don't have to worry about…" she cringed a little, "_office etiquette."_

Gene snorted as he reached again for the bottle of scotch.

"Self-employed," he sneered, "is that a posh way of saying you sit around on yer arse all day because you can't get a proper job?"

Em's face started to burn. She desperately wanted to ask whether getting out the scotch was a fancy way of saying he'd rather be rat-arsed than clearing up the streets but she didn't.

"No," she said through gritted teeth, "it's a fancy way of saying that you've got the wrong woman. I shouldn't be here. I'm not a member of the police force."

"Just a member of the Damien Hurst fan club," Gene sniffed.

"That's the only artist you know so you just _had_ to say it," Em snapped, used to that kind of attitude from people going back years and years.

"_Picasso,"_ Gene said, thumping an empty glass in front of Em, "I know Picasso. Weird bloody bastard. Was he the one who drew triangles?" he could see from Em's expression that he wasn't quite up on the world of art. "Or was he one of those painty men who pointed at stuff?"

Em narrowed her eyes.

"You mean a pointillist?"

"That's the one."

Em made a face of confusion.

"No, neither of them," she said, her tone increasing with every syllable, "I mean, there may have been _some triangles_ involved... but it's not like he's known as the triangle guy or anything. Anyway, that's not the point!" she got to her feet slowly, still feeling shaken from the day, "I'm not a police officer and I need to go home."

"Sit down, Rembrandt, got your papers here somewhere."

"Papers?" Em bristled again, "I suppose you mean ones for me to cut into pretty shapes and stick down with PVA glue?" she watched as Gene poured out scotch with one hand and rummaged through some papers with the other. "Never let it be said the Gene Genie can't multi-task."

"That's OK," Em tried to stop him from pouring a glass for her but he wasn't listening.

"Drink it," he told her, "it'll numb the pain of finding out what doing a _real_ job's like."

"You think I lay in bed all day?" Em's anger was getting harder to fight.

"Wouldn't surprise me, that's what that bloody _Emin_ woman did, isn't it?"

"So you _do_ know more than one artist," Em narrowed her eyes.

Gene found the file he was looking for and leaned back in his chair with it. His eyes scanned it over as he tried to take in the information.

"You're here as our brand-spanking new photofit artist," he told her, "suppose that's better than slicing up Shoebury and sticking him in formaldehyde."

"I'm not here for anything," Em said quietly, "I need to get home."

"This _is_ home."

"There are people I need to get back to," Em said quietly. For the first time she realised the hardest part of her predicament; stranded away from the people she loved. "I've done long distance relationships in the past and timezones are a killer but I'm not conducting relationships through different decades. That's a step too far, even for me." She watched as Gene continued to read the file. The silence disturbed her. She felt like she needed to fill it somehow. "It's June, right? June ninety-eight?"

"We are currently living in a world with only four Spice Girls, yes," Gene mumbled as he closed her file and put it down, "and I need time to mourn the sad loss of the one with the tastiest arse.."

Em seemed slightly relieved.

"At least that's _one_ thing we agree on," she mumbled, just loud enough for Gene to hear. He froze and turned a glare in her direction.

"If that's a creative way of telling me the Fenchurch East Rainbow Brigade has increased its numbers by one then I'll be needing this meself," he barked and downed the scotch he'd poured her. Em swallowed, relieved that she wasn't going to have to turn down his offer of a drink. She couldn't help but feel anxious about his words.

"I will attempt to keep my," she shuffled awkwardly, "_rainbow tendencies_ to a minimum," she told him and Gene let out a very heavy sigh.

"_Bugger," _he scowled, "another one. Most bastard bloody honest station in the capital and yet you can't move for bent coppers." He noticed his new arrival looking angry and decided enough was enough for one night. He fixed her in his glare. "Go home and sharpen yer pencils," he told her, "Eight-thirty on the dot I want you here, in me office, ready to draw the horrible and the ugly of Fenchurch's criminal underworld."

Em looked down, distressed and deflated.

"Yes," she mumbled, _"sir."_

"That's Guv to you," he nodded towards the door, "go. And try not to drip paint on me carpet on yer way out."

He watched as Em hung her head and left, her anger and annoyance giving way to a sense of loss an sadness. Now that the shock was wearing away there was nothing left to stop her from realising that she was stuck far away from home in a place whose reality was dubious and she had no idea how to get back, only that she _had_ to. 1998 was not a place in which she intended to stay.


	5. Chapter 4: Let's Delay our Misery

**Chapter 4**

"Penny for them?"

Gene didn't really hear Alex at first. He was miles away, staring into his glass and hoping to find the mysteries of the universe contained within it. He finally looked up when she sat down beside him, a glass of deep red wine in her hands. "Penny for them?" she repeated, then in case Gene needed further explanation she explained, "your thoughts."

Gene gave a heavy sigh. He swilled his own wine around a few times and pulled a face.

"They're worth at least a quid," he told her. She frowned a little. "Inflation," he told her.

"I'll give you fifty pence, and that's my final offer," Alex told him.

It was still light outside, even though it was just heading towards nine in the evening. The days were long and warm, and the summer in full swing. There was football, tennis and excitement in the air, between the start of the world cup and the approach of Wimbledon. You couldn't move for England flags. The streets were lined with revellers as they made their way home from the station that night. There was a buzz in the air and even though Alex knew it wouldn't last it was still exciting, none the less.

"I don't like it, Bolly."

Alex sighed deeply.

"I take it you're not taking about the refereeing decisions in today's match," she said.

"Don't like it at all." Alex could see from the look on Gene's face that he was deadly serious, "World's trundled along for years, like a finely oiled machine." He swallowed a mouthful of wine and sat the glass down on the coffee table, "last few years it's been coughing and spluttering like Shoebury after a lungful of aromas from the canteen at Christmas."

"The artist," Alex sighed quietly.

"Not _just_ bloody Damien Hurst in a skirt," Gene began.

"She wasn't wearing a skirt," Alex sighed, knowing that wasn't the point in the slightest.

"What else have we had, Bols? The pub chucking out early. Bloody t_wo-by-two_s, first shoebury and his sidekick then a double act that look like they're straight out of the pop charts. Offspring skipping and hopping between worlds. That's just the start."

Alex nodded slowly. She tried to make light of the situation but she was as concerned as Gene. If she was honest she'd been worried for a while. She tried to ignore her concerns because Gene did enough ranting about the oddities for the two of them but she felt concerned as well. Things had been fairly normal until the day Simon and Robin arrived together. It had been the same old routine for years – new recruits, some dead, some floating. A passage to the pub when they were ready. Skipping a month here or there. And then one day Simon had stepped out of a crashed car, fainted and things were never quite the same again.

"Is it Simon?" Alex's thoughts spilled out before she could formulate them properly and Gene looked at her, confused.

"Is _what_ Simon?" He asked, "the biggest bushy tailed prat in society?"

"Did his arrival change things?" Alex asked quietly, "He's the bridge between worlds. That's what Sam said, wasn't it?" she saw Gene looking twitchy and hated to push the thought but he was the one who'd started the conversation. "He's your _son_, Gene. And impossible son. He was born to the wrong world." She sighed, "or you skipped to the wrong side of the line for _one night only._"

"Enough skipping, you make me sound like a ruddy May Day parade," Gene said awkwardly, but he sighed and admitted, "I don't know, Bolly. I don't know _anything_ any more. It could be Simon. Or it could have been Batman." He reached for his glass again. He felt in need of alcohol suddenly, "only one who gets his own paperwork." Gene didn't like that either. Even Alex, Simon and Kim's recruits found their papers on Gene's desk. He looked somewhat perturbed as he recalled, "_Mister Stringer _told me he wanted to be a lion tamer once."

From the look on Gene's face Alex could see this was leading to more than a joke abut Robin belonging with the clowns instead.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

"What if the _Manc_ Lion is the one he was supposed to tame?"

"You don't actually believe that, Gene," Alex sighed.

"I'm past knowing what I believe," Gene confided, "not out of the question. His transformation from weedy wet-blanket to Incredible Hulk threw me off a bit" he shook his head. "If not Batman then his not-so-glamorous assistant." He looked at Alex. "Stringer was here six months before Shoebury parked his arse in me station. We know the bespectacled Beelzebub arrived not long after. Malcolm and Kite started going loco around the same time."

"You think Kim's the catalyst?" Alex asked quietly.

"Me station welcomed her with open arms," Gene mumbled grumpily, before adding pointedly, "at least it didn't welcome her with open legs," and Alex pulled a face.

"That's enough of _that_, Gene," she sighed.

Gene got to his feet. He felt an urgent need to polish off as much alcohol as was humanly possible in one night. Heading to the kitchen to find the bottle, he shook his head.

"Could be any one of them, Bols. The usual suspects. One, two or three of them"

"Or none of them at all.," Alex whispered. She watched Gene shrugging. "Or maybe," she whispered, "the answer is closer to home." She looked at Gene. "Perhaps it's not the station that's changing," she whispered, "perhaps it's us."Gene stared back for several moments then turned and left the room in silence. He'd heard her. He understood. What he couldn't face was telling her that the thought had crossed his own mind too.

~xXx~

The house was grotty, empty and unwelcoming. Touches of both Kim and Kay's time in those four walls remained. Em had been so desperate for some time alone to get her thoughts together that as soon as someone had found her address secreted amongst her possessions she'd begged for directions and fled as fast as she could. She'd read about this, seen it in that book. _Sam Tyler, Alex Drake_ – all those names that Evan had written about. They all had a 'home'.

"_I suppose this one's mine,"_ she whispered.

She sat hesitantly on the grubby duvet and drew her knees up to her chest. It was far, _far_ too quiet. She began to wish that she wasn't alone, yet knew she needed time to work through her thoughts. _Shit_, this wasn't right, this was _crazy._ She couldn't comprehend what was happening to her.

"What's going on out there?" she whispered.

She flinched as she played back through her memory the moment of impact, the car that knocked her senseless. She recalled the pain but it was the _fear_ that really stayed with her. And now here she was, a very long way away from home in a world she'd read all about, a world that so many people had apparently bought into.

"_And now I've bought into it too," _she whispered.

She closed her eyes tightly as she swayed back and forth, blocking out the sounds of the revellers sill cheering outside.

"_Two-nil! Two-nil!"_ they chanted.

"It's not going to get to me," she whispered, "It _can't_ do, because it isn't real."

And yet for a dream it certainly seemed to hurt.

~xXx~

Eighteen and not a care in the world.

Well, maybe one or _two_ cares. Big art show. Two years of hard work building up to that one event. Weeks of trimming, cutting, sticking, mounting, painting, preparing the room and going slightly loco with the stress were finally coming to an end and the show just two days away.

The scent of summer evening air that flooded through her window made her feel so alive as she relaxed on her bed, a glass of red wine by her side, an open book on her knees and a pen in her hand. The radio beside her pumped out song after song and she hummed along as she wrote, page after page. The start of _Viva Forever_ brought a stirring to her chest and she reached out to turn up the volume. Closing her eyes with a happy sigh and sweeping back her bleached fringe from her face, she felt happy to be alive.

~xXx~

The click of the radio alarm clock by her bed switching itself on made Em jump. Her heart leapt into her mouth with a little gasp and she spun around as music started to play at quite some volume.

_#...Viva forever, I'll be waiting _

_Everlasting, like the sun _

_Live forever, _

_For the moment _

_Ever searching for the one...#_

"_Fuck,"_ she gasped, reaching out at speed to turn it off. She was unfamiliar with the radio and it took a few moments to locate the off switch. By the time she killed the music her heart was thumping away and she could barely catch her breath. _Not that song, please, not that song._

With the radio now silenced, she jumped to her feet and walked, just walked, around and around in circles, trying desperately to stop the wild trembling through her body. She remembered the thought passing through her mind when she'd first read the book that she knew what year she would end up if there was a 'world for artists'. Shed even mentally joked with herself that Bob Ross was probably the Gene Hunt of the world. Apparently not. Apparently there _was_ no world for artists, just Gene Hunt again.

Her frantic pace finally slowed and her feet took her to the window where she stared out onto an unfamiliar street. There were groups of people with flags painted on their faces and England shits on their back, enjoying the aftermath of the win, other gatherings of people just enjoying the summer evening air and a few stragglers who were heading home late from work. Just another normal, busy Monday evening.

She stared up at the clear sky. Somewhere out there she knew a life was about to change beyond all recognition in the most horrifying way and there wasn't a single damn thing she could do to stop it. All she could do was desperately beg to wake up before the day arrived because she was _not_ going to live through it all over again.


	6. Chapter 5: Day's Dawning, Skins Crawling

**Chapter 5**

How many years had it been since that nightmare had plagued her? Since that _night_ had plagued her? The night that would come back to haunt her at the same time every year, until the day passed and she was able to pack it away in its little box until next time. But being back there, back in that year, back in her memories had brought it to the fore. Her body burned with fever all night long, her skin clammy to the touch and so very hot that anyone would have called for an ambulance given half a chance.

She tossed and she turned as that face played through her dreams, the one she'd spent years trying to block out of her thoughts, and that _voice_. The words. The phrases that haunted her. And then the sensations that she'd fought day and night to fight, to keep from her waking thought until finally came the moment, the split second that changed everything, her life, her happiness, her confidence, her innocence; all gone in one swift motion.

"_Shit, no –"_

Em awoke with a gasp that threatened desperately to turn into a scream as she scrambled upright in bed, breathing heavily, gasping for breath. Her face was flushed and the t-shirt she'd thrown on for bed clung to her perspiring body. Where _was_ she? She couldn't work it out at first until she finally remembered everything, from the moment of impact and the pain she felt through her entire body to her eyes flickering open in the middle of a place once so familiar to her, and then meeting more dead people than you'd find in a series of _Most Haunted._

"_Oh my god,"_ she whispered, drawing a hand to her lips. She swallowed, feeling the rate of her heart finally starting to slow, "_I'm still here." _She swallowed. There was a sinking feeling deep inside of her, a terrible darkness that turned her stomach over and squeezed the air from her chest. "_It's still real," _she breathed.

She'd thought for sure she would be awake by morning. She would go to bed in the strange and unfamiliar world to wake up in her own. If this had all been a dream then surely waking up the next morning would see the end of it.

"But I'm still here," she whispered, clinging to the top of the sheet.

_Shit._

What now? Where the hell was she supposed to go? She was in a world filled with people she didn't know. Was she supposed to go to the station again? She didn't fit in there. She knew that much for certain. Everyone she'd met seemed to hate her on sight from the fact that she wasn't a cop. She couldn't help _that! _Her career choices were neither here nor there when it came down to it. The fact was that she was trapped in a world that she didn't know and needed to get home.

She tiptoed down to the lounge, still dressed in a t-shirt that wasn't even hers. She felt a little nervous, as though she was intruding in someone else's home. The lounge was nothing to write home about, small and grim just like the bedroom. There was at least a TV set, one that looked a few years out of date but it was better than nothing. She pressed in the standby button and knelt on the floor in front of it. It was strange, it was a fairly futile move, it was pointless and meaningless but being back in 1998 put her in that mode, It was familiar. A taste of home.

"Nineteen ninety eight," she whispered, "I used to do this… every morning," she swallowed, "every damn day." The TV woke up properly and the BBC's breakfast news programme came on which she quickly killed by pressing the teletext button. The familiar blocky graphics filled the screen, the bold colours that spoke of headlines and features, a facility now so misunderstood and under appreciated. She had thrived upon it once. What was the number of the page she used to read every day? Was it _five nine something?_ Oh god, how could she have forgotten that? But her memory wasn't all it used to be.

With a sigh she checked the index. At least she remembered that one. _199._ She knew it was a futile exercise, checking TV news from more than a decade ago but she was desperate for some familiarity and routine. Waiting for the pages to turn around, she wondered how she had ever put up with teletext. Now she wanted to throw her laptop out the window if it took more than a couple of seconds to open a page.

She read the TV news. She played _Bamboozle_. One by one she went through her old routine, the one she'd do before college every day, but soon enough she found herself out of pages and out of distractions. She began to realise how very isolated and alone she felt. She was used to having people around her. The house was far too quiet. She hung her head, trying to breathe in deeply as anxiety started to gnaw away inside her. Where the hell _was_ she? How could she get back? Was she trapped in her own head or was the place the book described real?

She swallowed and shook her head. God, she missed her home. She missed reaching out and pulling her laptop onto her knees, opening up a whole world to her. She missed checking her emails and finding contact from her friends right there at her fingertips. She missed being in control of her own work instead of thrown into a place and a situation that made so little sense to her.

She closed her eyes, rocking gently on the spot as she tried to work out who to side with in the epic battle of the hunger pangs Vs. the anxiety that wasn't going to let her eat if she tried. She realised the chances of there being anything edible in the house were fairly low anyway. She supposed she would have to do something about that. Find a shop, stock up and try to at least make out her life was _somewhere_ near normal. Slowly she walked into the kitchen and found she'd been right, the cupboards were more or less bare. There was half a jar of coffee. No milk, but then she hadn't really expected any. As she made herself a black coffee she mused aloud to fill the silence;

"I can't even remember the last time I had black coffee . It would have been…" she paused, mid-stir and took a deep breath, "about this time, actually." By the time the summer holidays had passed they'd fixed the coffee machine and the correct cups were back in the correct slots so she was able to enjoy a nice white coffee with no sugar instead of chasing it elusively round the machine, like an unpleasant drink roulette.

Taking the tiniest sip of her bitter drink she mooched back to the lounge where the TV was still playing to itself, _The Big Breakfast_ filling the screen with colour and mayhem. On the screen were Johnny Vaughn and Denise Van Outen, a sight that gave Em a moment's much appreciated joy and made her smile.

"God, I miss this show," she murmured, clinging to her mug for warmth and security. Even though it was a warm summer's morning her insecurity left her chilled to the bone.

"_And after the break we've got the pun-down so don't go anywhere,"_ Johnny warned before the adverts began, leaving Em watching some elderly lady being conned out of her world cup tickets in a McDonalds commercial. Em grunted. Without Johnny and Denise on screen she felt even lonelier. She had no one no friends, no family, she couldn't even grab her laptop and email someone. The closest she had right then was –

"The _letters_ page," she whispered as she stared at the remote control in her hands. She swallowed and tuned the channel to a cable station, then switched on teletext. Just seeing the old layout sent shivers through her from head to toe. She still remembered the number of the page, _seven two three._ Her heart skipped a beat as the messages flipped around, all the familiar names that appeared as it cycled through page after page until the most familiar of all came on.

"_Me,"_she whispered.

Her eyes shut tightly as she drew in her breath. _That was me, before_. She couldn't contemplate the 'before'. It hurt too badly.

It all became a little too much and with one fast movement she switched off the television and got to her feet, cup still in hand. Where the _hell_ was she supposed to go? Where else _could_ she go? The only place she even knew nearby was the station. She was unfamiliar with this part of London, except for a few filming locations of a show that ended many years ago and a really crappy sculpture that she wanted to avoid at all costs.

Really, where else _was_ there to go but to hang around with the dead men?

Reluctantly Em dragged herself back to a bedroom that wasn't hers to get ready to start work in a job that she'd never wanted in a million years.

~xXx~

The stomping of Gene's feet through CID caused the walls to shake. Everyone could tell when he was in a bad mood because his stomping hit a 6.2 on the Richter scale. Everyone with an ounce of common sense stayed well and truly out of his way. Unfortunately for him, Simon wasn't one of them.

"Guv," he trotted to catch up with him and Gene turned around, face awash with annoyance.

"Haven't you got nuts to polish?" he barked.

"Wow, _you're_ a barrel of laughs," Simon scowled.

"I like a joke as much as the next man," Gene barked, "as long as the next man isn't you after Bammo's invested in a jumbo-sized pack of_ water balloons!"_

Simon frowned and held up his hands.

"Hey, I'm sorry, sorry, he protested, "what's getting your goat?"

Gene folded his arms.

"Having me station invaded by paintbrush-wielding interlopers who are about to stick me team in formaldehyde in the name of art at any second for a start!"

"Gene, she's not going to do that," Simon sighed and closed his eyes, "she seemed more of a… _traditional_ artist. Worst she can do is make you look uglier than you already are." He flinched as the words slipped out, "I didn't mean you were already ugly..." Simon protested, "just that she can make you _look_ that way!" he stepped back as Gene's face turned an increasingly vibrant shade of red, "you know… like the reverse of what they used to do… with queens and things."

"I've never done anything with queens!" Gene barked "and before you fling the ugly label in my direction may I remind you, _oh fruit of my loins, _the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

Gene's fury built up so high that he spat as he spoke and Simon retreated a little.

"I still never said you were ugly!" he protested, "and can we _please_ not mention my connection to your loins?"

"I'll stop mentioning them when they turn blue and fall off," Gene had worked himself into a frenzy. He caught sight of Kim trying to slip into her office, unseen. "_Oi! Metal Mickey!"_

Kim froze in the doorway, closed her eyes and gave one very deep sigh. Finally she took two steps back as though on rewind and turned to him.

"Yes, Guv?"

"Need you back out there preaching the perils of the roads," he told her, "and take your tufty friend with you."

"_What?_" Simon's eyes opened wide in horror as Kim cried,

"Oh _god_, you _have_ to be kidding me!"

"From the conversation I had this morning with some traffic _bigwig _down in Surrey your lecture yesterday afternoon was less successful than the canteen's christmas menu!" Gene told her, "fourteen accidents happened in the half-hour after you were supposed to be lecturing. Most of them involving flying portfolios!"

"It's not _our_ fault!" Simon protested, "no one turned _up!"_

"Tell it to the tail," Gene told him.

"I'm not wearing the suit again," Simon protested.

"You'll wear it if you still want to keep yer _own_ nuts til the end of the day," Gene barked and Simon swallowed.

"Aright," he mumbled.

"Take that poor excuse for a Turner Prize with you," Gene told them.

"_What?_" Kim cried, "Ohhhh no, _don't_ palm her off on us just because you don't know what to do with her!"

"I'm _not_ palming her off on you," Gene told her, "…I'm _delegating_. She's all yours, Stringer."

Kim's face fell, screwing up with anger. She knew she was due a recruit but this wasn't what she had expected.

"She's not even a _copper_, Guv!" she groaned.

"You can bond over yer shared love of straining tea with yer faces," Gene told her. He nodded to the doorway. "Go on. Off to Surrey with you. And Shoebury?"

Simon hesitated.

"What?"

Gene made a squirrelly motion with his hands.

_"Hop it."_

Simon scowled.

"Just you wait, Gene," he warned, "there will be repercussions from this."

"What you gonna do?" Gene challenged, "bury me car in the back garden?"

"I'm on the verge of burying you _with_ it," Simon scowled, then turned to seek his costume again.

Alex heard angry voices and cautiously edged along the corridor to find out what was going on.

"Gene?" she asked quietly, "is anything the matter?"

"What could _possibly_ be the matter, Bolly?" Gene huffed "the world has mistaken Fenchurch East for a bloody _art_ gallery!" he sighed and tried to calm down. There were more serous matters at hand. "I need you, Bols."

Alex raised an eye.

"On your desk or in the loos?" she asked.

"Sadly not in that way for the foreseeable future," Gene said disappointedly, "I need you on a professional level," he cleared his throat, "the rest will have to wait." He looked uncomfortable as he said, "drug dealer washed up at the same of the Thames late last night."

Alex raised an eyebrow. She knew that since Nailer had left the scene there had been wars between dealers, struggling for supremacy, and wondered whether this was yet another victim.

"Friend of mister Nailer?" she asked, "Or foe?"

"Neither. New face."

"Oh?" That surprised Alex somewhat. "Cause of death?"

"Autopsy's taking place this afternoon," Gene told her, "but it probably had something to do with he bloodied axe they found two miles up the river and the large chest wound the poor bugger had."

_"Ouch,"_ Alex cringed a little.

"I think the poor sod's language might have been a little more fragrant," Gene told her.

Alex nodded.

"I'll get my team together," she said, "any sign this is linked with the attacks last December?"

"Looks like a whole new world," Gene commented then cringed at his own phrasing. New words were _not_ something he was willing to think about right then.


	7. Chapter 6: Things Are Getting Strange

**Chapter 6**

Em didn't want to be there but she didn't have anywhere else to go. It was a choice she didn't want to make: head to the station to a job she didn't really do, or sit around in a grotty, empty house all day on her own. In lieu of any friends or people she knew the company of strangers was the best prospect she had.

She was aware of people staring as she walked self-consciously through CID. She was sure she heard at least two people accusing her of slicing up cows and displaying them in glass cases.

"Why the fuck did I have to come here during Damien Hurst's dead animal phase?" she muttered crossly to herself, hitching up her jeans with one hand. She wouldn't have minded if she at least had her own clothes but aside from the ones she'd arrived in she found a wardrobe full of someone else's and wasn't feeling particularly comfortable in them.

"So you came back then?"

Em frowned and turned around slowly on the spot. An incredulous, suspicious Gene stared at her from the doorway of his office. There was a glass of something on his desk. It seemed a bit early for that.

"_Apparently_ I work here," Em tried not to sound sarcastic but she couldn't help it. She wanted to escape the whole damned situation but there was no way out.

"You're with Stringer," Gene barked at her.

"What?" Em wasn't sure she understood.

"She was the one without the fluffy tail," Gene told her, "only we don't seem to have our oil painting quota filled yet this financial year so I've had to lump you in with the person with the most metal through her face."

Em was aware of some sniggering around her and she shuddered. It was a bit like being back at school, being the odd one out.

"Fine," she said, turning to find Kim's office.

_"Oi."_ Em froze again and turned around very slowly to see Gene beckoning her in his direction. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before she slowly walked towards him.

"Yes," she said, _"Guv?" _she cursed herself for letting so much sarcasm though, it wasn't going to help her case.

"Hear you've been a bit of a book worm," he grunted as she frowned, "Reading the fevered scrawlings of a beard."

Em finally got Gene's inference and began to jabber a little nervously.

"It's just a book," she said, "I was reading about it all too much and now I'm dreaming about it, that's all –"

"You shouldn't believe everything you read in books," Gene told her warningly.

Em swallowed.

"I'll try to remember that,"she whispered, feeling more intimidated than ever by the strange place she'd found herself within.

"And," Gene began. His face took on a somewhat sombre, serious expression, "just because you _think_ you know something, doesn't mean you need to spread it around." Em wasn't sure what he was talking about and tried to stumble out an apology of confusion. "Only some of us don't want to know what's ahead for us." His face seemed to contort "Don't go slipping Stringer any spoilers. You understand?"

Em swallowed. She thought she understood.

"Yes, Guv," she whispered.

"Now bugger off," he told her, "and try not to get yer face soldered onto Stringer's while you're there."

Em's brow creased up as she took on a scowl. The moment of empathy was over before it had even begun.

~xXx~

"Two days in a fucking squirrel suit."

Simon swished his tail and Kim went flying.

"Simon, you twat!" she cried, "keep your damn tail under control!"

"Sorry," Simon reached out apologetically to help her up but Kim looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm not touching our grubby paw, she told him, "not after you've been fiddling with your nuts." She saw Simon looking, somewhat horrified. "It's a bloody _squirrel_ joke! Honestly, Simon, lighten _up!"_ She opened the door of the Fiat and waited for Simon to squish himself inside, then she glanced at Em who was standing silently nearby. "Cat got your tongue?"

Em looked down and scuttled towards the back of the car

"Sorry," she mumbled, "Guv."

"I'm not Guv, I don't have rampant B.O. for a start," Kim muttered as she climbed into the driver's seat.

"You wear the same deodorant as him," Simon piped up.

"Shut up, Tufty."

"Why do we even have to go _back_ there again?" Simon groaned, "like yesterday's humiliation wasn't enough!"

"Yeah well, there's no England match this morning so we might have a crowd made up of actual students today."

"Students," Em's fingers grasped the seat frantically, "Please tell me we're not going to the college again."

"Just to save them from turning into road kill," Kim told her as she pulled out of the car park.

"I'll stay behind," Em said quickly.

"Too late now."

"I don't want to go back there!"

"Join the _club!"_

Em's mouth was open in shock and fear but she couldn't think of another word to say. Her protests fell on deaf ears. No one knew why she wanted to keep away, no one understood what she wanted so badly to avoid and she didn't dare say. She couldn't. The words were too hard. So she sank back into the seat, making herself as small as possible, Perhaps if she wished hard enough she could just disappear.

No such luck.

~xXx~

"Robert Cheswick," Gene pressed a photo to the white board in CID as his team gathered around, ""washed up last night at the side of the Thames. Couple of teenagers thought they'd go skinny dipping and got more than they bargained for."

"Worst you usually find is a used condom," Jake commented before he realised the rest of the team now believed that skinny dipping was his evening activity of choice. "Not that I'd know anything about that." His eyes darted across the room to Robin who tried to sink into his uniform.

"He's a small-time dealer, isn't he?" Robin asked to take the heat off Jake, "we were called to a raid two weeks ago, Didn't turn anything up. Guy got off scot-free."

"If you call three separate axe-inflicted wounds getting off scot-free," Alex said, adding pictures of the wounds to the board. She saw Marci clutch her stomach and turn a little green at the sight of them, "autopsy won't be back just yet but it seems he died from loss of blood before he was thrown into the river."

"Known contacts?" Jake asked.

"No one on the scene," said Gene, "no connection to Nailer's network, nothing to do with the gentleman who wanted to bump them off one by one either. Doesn't look like this was connected to any of the Nailer Wars. Someone had it in for this man. It's personal."

"My team are checking out their own leads," Alex began, "tracing the supply line, he's a middle of the line dealer. There are a few people we need to talk to."

"Dawson, take Nicey Spice down to his patch, see if anyone's got a loose lip."

"Marci?" Jake looked at Marci who seemed rather pale, "you OK?"

Marci swallowed, every inch of her expression showing she wasn't herself that day.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I didn't sleep well."

"You wouldn't do, you were dancing 'til three," Jake pointed out. Marci stayed silent. There were heavy, dark circles under her eyes and a glassy look across her face.

"Oi." Gene didn't seem impressed, "I understand you seem to have a desire to join a certain girl group but if you come into work looking like that you're gonna _really_ live up to the scary Spice name. Are you gonna puke on my carpet?"

Marci swallowed and looked down.

"No, Guv," she said.

"Good." Gene narrowed his eyes at her, "not like you've never had a hangover before."

"I'm not hungover," Marci said, "must have been a dodgy kebab."

"You've had plenty of those before an' all," Gene told her.

"Marci, I'm worried -" Jake began but Marci didn't want to listen.

"Look, I'm fine, really," Marci pushed Jake out of her way, "I just need a glass of water,"

"Marci –"

"I'm fine," she snapped and Jake took a step back, concerned by her unusually short temper.

"Alright," he raised his hands, "I get it. You're fine. I hope you'll still be 'fine' in my car on the way."

Alex wasn't sure what was wrong with Marci or why she seemed determined to piss off her team-mates that day but she knew no good would come of dwelling on it so she tried to get back to the matter at hand.

"Guv," she turned to Gene, "Any gossip on the streets I should know of? Any information your snouts have picked up?"

"Nope," Gene scuffed his toe on the floor, "Sniff's gone to ground. Think someone nicked his hanky. No one seems to know much at all about the new boy." She paused, "_dead_ boy."

"Alright," Alex stood up straight and began to walk toward the door, "I'll see what my tram have got for us. We'll reconvene at twelve."

"If Dawson's not knocked Nicey's block of by then," Gene observed as Marci and Jake continued to argue all the way down the corridor. Something wasn't quite right there, not between the two of them and definitely not with Marci, and for someone who'd made a successful career out of being the 'good cop' she was seriously in danger of losing her role

~xXx~

_# ...Let's dance..._

_...Put on your red shoes and dance the blues…#_

"I love this song."

The room was busier. With no one vanishing for a match and only a day left to prepare for the art show there were more art students compressed into one space than should have been legally possible. While over the other side of the room there were various of students accidentally getting high from the paint fumes, back on their own side two busy teens were accidentally getting high from _glue_ fumes, having finished their painting the day before. They'd spent the past two hours mounting things onto card and practically killing the guillotine in the process.

"Don't forget the talk in ten minutes," a slightly flustered tutor popped her head in the room and told them all, "I don't want to see any of you using the show an excuse for not going."

"_Yes Carol," _the students chorused as they carried on with their preparations.

The two girls got to their feet to hang their freshly-mounted work, singing along to the radio all the while.

_#...If you say run, I'll run with you_

_If you say hide, we'll hide_

_Because my love for you_

_Would break my heart in two_

_If you should fall_

_Into my arms_

_And tremble like a flower...#_

Before they could start the next verse another tutor poked her head into the room.

"Don't forget the show opens tomorrow night," she said, "I don't want to see any of you using the road safety lecture as an excuse for not completing your preparations!"

The students rolled their eyes.

"Yes, Bobby," they chorused as Bobby left.

"This place is one big bloody contradiction," the blonde girl muttered as she reached for another piece of art.

"Are we going to go then?" her friend asked, not sounding convinced either way.

"Could be a laugh," the blonde girl shrugged, "at the very least we'll have something new to take the piss out of."

Her friend nodded. She hadn't thought of it that way.

"True."

The blonde girl wiped her gluey hands on the sides of her black skirt and grabbed her handbag.

"Come on, let's go and get one of the tables at the back," she said, "I hear there's a giant squirrel."

Her friend sighed as she threw her bag over her shoulder.

"That glue's gone to your head."

~xXx~

"Guv," Jake's enthusiastic tone was the first good thing Gene had encountered all day. An enthusiastic Jake was usually the first step on the way to a case being cracked which finally gave him some hope. "Been out around Cheswick's patch. No one was willing to speak up although no one had a bad word to say about the guy either, but we did turn up something juicy."

Gene noted that the other part of that '_we_' was looking a little more human than she had been earlier.

"How juicy are we talking? He asked, "weedy orange or T-bone steak?"

Jake wasn't sure where on the juicy spectrum the discovery lay but that wasn't important.

"That patch was the original ground covered by one Arthur Layton, many moons ago," he said.

From across the room the sound of Layton's name brought an anxious Alex to their side.

"That's a name no one wants to hear," she shuddered.

"We're talking two and a half decades ago," Jake told them, "it was where he first started out."

"Sounds like it's been pretty much a scrapping ground ever since." Marci added, ""first time anyone's worked it regularly in years."

"And does anyone know what our friend Mister Layton is doing at the moment?" gene asked, his eyebrow rising, "residing at her majesty's pleasure if I remember."

"Not any more," Jake said and Gene and Alex looked at him, shocked and disturbed.

"What?" Alex breathed.

"The tainted drugs?" Jake continued, "bought his way out with information. He was set free with and put through a detox programme. Never even went to court."

"_Shit,"_ Alex whispered.

"And the new boy on his old patch finds himself as chopped liver," Gene mused,"I think we're in t-bone territory." He nodded. "Good work, Dawson." He eyed Marci warily, "You knocked that hangover on the head, Nicey Spice?"

Marci looked down guiltily.

"Yes Guv," she said quietly, "sorry."

"Good," said Gene, "because I'll need you in full possession of yer marbles. When the name Arthur Layton comes up it's barely the tip of the iceberg," he sighed as he stared at the photo of Chiswick on the board, "and it looks like our old acquaintance might have just sunk the Titanic."


	8. Chapter 7: Like The Sands of Time

**Chapter 7**

"I don't suppose you're coming out the car?" Kim looked at Em rather witheringly as she sat silently in the back seat.

"It's not like I can do much if I come with you," she said quietly, already pale from the sight of the college.

"What have you got against it?" Simon asked, "forget to turn in your homework?"

"Let's just go," Kim sighed, opening the door and climbing out of the car. With a sigh, Simon did the same and they walked away, leaving Em alone to stare at the building once so familiar.

"I don't even know what to _do_ with her," Kim confided, "she's not a bloody officer. She's next to useless. What's she going to do, draw caricatures of murder victims?"

"Tattoos of them," Simon said and Kim looked at him in confusion. "She draws tattoos. Apparently."

Kim made a face as she thought about it,

"OK, maybe _not_ so useless," she said.

"you're only saying that because you're stuck for inspiration on your backpiece," Simon pointed out.

"Oh _shush_ you," Kim told him, "and put that bloody squirrel head on."

Simon scowled but did as he was told.

"I bloody hate my job," he muttered.

~xXx~

"Now, does anyone know the leading cause of death in Surrey?"

One of the students raised his hand.

"Being _bored_ to death?" he asked sarcastically as Simon and Kim glared back at him.

"Anyone who's not doing a diploma in advanced sarcasm?" Kim snapped as someone else raised their hand. "Yes?"

"Is it hot in that costume?" the girl said, ignoring the question at hand.

"Don't ask the squirrel questions," Kim glared at her as someone else raised their hand.

"Why? Will he go nuts?" he asked to a smattering of laughter from the gathered audience.

Kim gave a loud, sarcastic laugh to drown them out and stomped closer to the chaos.

"The number one cause of death in Surrey is going to be art students angering _police_ officers!" she cried, making a fist.

"We'll give you a clue," Simon interrupted to take away the emphasis from Kim's threats, "it involves cars." A student put up her hand. "Yes?"

"Why are you a squirrel?" she asked.

"That's not answering the question."

"That's not answering _mine."_

"Because they're prone to becoming _road_kill!" Simon cried

"Then that's about the crappiest costume to wear for a road safety campaign," one of the students called out, "why didn't you dress as something that doesn't go splat?"

"Yeah, like a hedgehog," another called out.

"Hedgehogs are worse than squirrels"" the first accused.

"Not when they're fast and blue!"

"_Excuse me?"_ Kim cried, marching to the other side of the room to confront the arguing students, "do you want to waste the whole day stuck in this room, surrounded by enough easels to make you start believing you're in some kind of arty forest, or do you want to get this over with so you can all bugger off down the pub for a liquid lunch?" she stared them into silence as they realised the appeal of the pub outweighed the appeal of taunting the large squirrel in front of them. After a few moments of silence during which Kim briefly considered a career change as a teacher she folded her arms, stepped back and began again. "The number one cause of death in Surrey is road traffic accidents," she continued, "involving portfolios, charcoal and masking tape. When you walk out of the college grounds at the end of the day be very aware that there are cars and other vehicles gassing the grounds which are not equipped for repelling pencils and paper. Today's art could become tomorrow's autopsy." She froze as a pencil passed her by, flying through the air from somewhere in the audience. Snatching it up, she aimed the pointy end at their spectators. "Do you _really_ want to have a full demonstration of that?" she demanded as the students swallowed.

"Nope," they muttered.

"_Good,_" Kim breathed heavily, trying to regain her composure. This wasn't even part of her job. How she'd been roped into it was anyone's guess. She glared at the students in silence for a while before she finally dared to ask, "Any questions?" a sea of hands shot up. "Yes?" she pointed to a blonde girl at the back of the room.

"Are you doing anything later?" she asked and Kim turned a interesting shade of red.

"Yes I am, actually," she mumbled "I'm writing my resignation!" she shook herself a little. Any more? Yes…" she pointed to another student.

"Is the tail detachable?" he asked.

"Is your _head_ detachable?" Simon glared at him.

Another student raised his hand.

"So is this like a… _sexual_ thing?" he asked.

"Yeah, are you a furry?" another chimed in.

"Any questions that aren't about the squirrel?" Kim demanded and all the hands in the audience went down. "In _that_ case," she picked up her anti-art supplies sign, snapped it over her knee and glared at them one last time, "we're off. You can fend for yourselves. Sod the lot of you." She stomped towards the exit before glancing behind her, "Come on, Tufty."

Simon glared at Kim through his squirrel eyes, then turned back to the students.

"I hope you end up as one giant arty pizza," he told them, then with a swish of his tail he was gone.

~xXx~

"Kim… _Kim!"_

Kim glanced behind her.

"Come on, Si, I just want to get out of here," he told him.

"Kim, _wait!"_ Simon seemed to be struggling as he chased after her, "I can't get the head off. It's stuck!"

Kim stopped marching and turned to him properly.

"What do you _mean_ it's stuck?" she demanded.

"It's jammed on," Simon's muffled voice was getting more frantic, "I don't know how."

"Here, let me have a go," Kim marched over and put her hands around the base of the head. "Ready?" she gave a hard tug and Simon screamed.

"That's my _actual head!"_ he cried.

"Sorry," Kim tried using her thumbs to push it off, then tried twisting it a bit but nothing she did made any difference. "Stuck fast," she grunted eventually.

"I _told_ you!" Simon cried, "what am I going to do?"

"Only one thing you _can_ do, Kim told him, She nodded towards the tree. "You'll have to start a new life with your fellow squirrelkin."

"Oh bollocks," Simon snapped, tugging and pulling at the head again. He heard the sound of a car door closing and a moment later a curious voice asked,

"What's going on?"

"Oh great, more witnesses to my moment of glory," Simon mumbled as he turned to see Em beside them.

"The head is stuck," Kim explained with her hands on her hips, "and DCI Shoebury is going nuts."

"_Oi,"_ Simon scowled, or at least tried to but it was difficult since he was just a big squirrel.

"Do you need any help?" Em asked nervously.

"Tried everything already," Simon mumbled, "it won't budge."

"We'll have to get back to the office and ask Gene's advice," Kim told him.

"I'm not spending the whole journey wearing this fucking _head_ in your car," Simon cried.

"Too right you're not," she told him, "you won't fit in there for one thing. You'll have to take the train."

"I'm not taking the bloody train!"

"_Walk_ then!"

"I can't walk to _London!"_

_*Then hop from tree to tree!"_ Kim told him, "that head is _not_ fitting in my car, there's nothing I can do about it!"

"I'll lay down on the back seat," Simon told her

"Your tail won't fit."

"I'm _not_ taking the bloody train!"

"I'll pay for your ticket?" Kim offered.

"Do squirrels travel free?" Em mused.

Simon glared at them both.

"The only ticket I'm getting is a one way ticket to humiliation. I'm getting in the back."

Kim sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Your choice," she told him.

"Yes, it is," Simon mumbled as he made several attempts at getting in the back of the car and finally laid on his front, knees scrunched up to his chest and tail sticking out through the sunroof. "So let's get back before my next choice will be to start murdering sarcastic colleagues."

~xXx~

"What's going on?" Alex wasn't sure whether to give in to laughter or remain professional enough to admonish the others for mocking the sweltering, furry Simon sat on a chair in the middle of CID.

"Look, the head is stuck and I'm waiting for Kim to come back with the prisey-open things to help get it off," Simon huffed which only encouraged Alex to choose the laughter route.

"Prisey-open things," she repeated.

"_Yes,_ prisey-open things!" Simon snapped.

"He's never been good with tools," Robin volunteered and found a dark squirrel glare aimed in his direction.

"I'm good enough with them to do permanent damage to the next person who asks me if I'm out of my tree," Simon snapped just as Kim returned with a toolbox.

"Here," she said, "one set of prisey-open things at your service," she sat the box on the floor and opened the lid, "now, would you also like any of these _cutty-wutty_ or _turny-wurny _things too?"

"The prisey-open things will be fine," Simon snapped, snatching the box from her, "thank you."

"Alright," Alex tried to restore a degree of decorum to proceedings, "if the Squirrel is on its way to rejoining the human race then perhaps the rest of us can get back to work."

"_Sorry, ma'am,"_ a few people muttered as Jake breezed in.

"Ma'am, no leads on Layton's whereabouts as yet," he froze as he took in the sight before him, "Woah, what's with the squirrel?"

But the squirrel was the least important issue for Kim and Robin who both froze at the mention of that name.

"_Layton?_" Kim whispered. The last encounter she'd had with the man was in 2012 where a spree of violence had left her at death's door and - just days later - taken Robin from her.

"He's in prison," Robin whispered, trembling visibly "I-I arrested him, when I came ba- when I started here…"

Alex looked from one to the other, realising for the first time quite how traumatised the two were likely to be. She felt so guilty, she'd been so distracted by her own past connections with him that she hadn't even thought about it.

"He struck a deal," she said quietly.

"He bought his way out?" Robin asked flatly. Alex wished she could say something to offer them a little comfort but knew there was nothing. She nodded silently and saw the expression of horror on their faces. Even though this wasn't yet the Layton who had robbed Kim and Robin of their old life and their unborn child, he would be one day.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She knew just how they felt. There was silence, no one knew quite what to say. Jake was confused, Kim and Robin distressed, Simon scared of saying the wrong thing and Alex herself was stewing over the fact that Layton was on the loose again. Eventually she said quietly, "Rob, why don't you and Kim take yourselves home?"

"It's only halfway through the afternoon," Kim said quietly, "and Simon might need help with the prisey-open things."

"I'm sure I can manage," Simon told her, almost blinding himself with them, _"Shit!"_

"Look, let me help," Kim sighed and shook her head.

"Kim," Alex said quietly. As Kim turned to her she could see a darkness in her eyes. "It's going to be alright," she said quietly.

Kim swallowed.

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"He won't keep his nose clean for long," Alex said, "literally, if I know Arthur Layton. Even if he's not involved in this investigation he will trip up again and next time we'll make sure that he doesn't slip through the net."

Kim tried to smile and nod but she couldn't quite manage to. She fell silent and turned to Simon to assist him with the tools. Alex's heart ached for her and for Robin. What Layton had put them through – or _would_ put them through – was too painful to imagine. After going through so much they finally had a life on a happy, even keel. Alex could only hope it would stay that way but she knew nothing was for certain.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: Please don't think I'm going crazy – the fic is abut to hit real-time so there will be another chapter posted tonight and three during the course of tomorrow.**_


	9. Chapter 8: Praying It's Not Too Late

**Chapter 8**

"Ten days... ten godforsaken days in this place."

Every day that Em's alarm woke her up was a day closer to _D-day,_ the day she dreaded with every inch of her being. Every day that her alarm woke her up, she was a day further from home. Shouldn't she have had a message by now? That's what happened in the book after all. What did that mean? Was she dead? Or was it just that no one wanted her back? With the standard of some of her jokes she couldn't blame them.

Every morning she woke with a knot in her stomach and a heavy feeling in her chest that combined to send her out of bed in a hurry and on a mission to take her mind off her situation. She paced at high speed down to the kitchen, made breakfast and took up her usual spot in front of the TV. It was strange; 15 years apart and yet she had fallen into the self-same routine she'd had in 1998 the _first_ time around.

She munched half-heartedly on toast as she flipped over page after page of teletext, reading stories that rang a bell from years ago. Some of them brought nostalgic smiles. Other were for TV shows she'd rather not remember.

"Oh _hell_ no," she mumbled as one story reminded her of a dreadful casting choice. She shuddered and changed to another page.

It was funny but she'd taken to eating a proper breakfast for the first time in her life. It wasn't that she didn't usually _want_ to, just that she usually didn't have time. With a family to take care of she busied herself catering for everyone else and ran out of time for her own. But now she was stranded far away from the people she loved she had no one to take care of. No family, no relationships, not even any friends at the end of an email. In fact, no _email_.

"What I wouldn't give for a laptop," she mumbled, changing channel again and putting on teletext. She flipped to the letters page and held her breath as it cycled through page after page of messages. She'd tried calling several times over the course of the past week and none of her messages had been printed. Each had been a thinly veiled comment about not going to parties and trusting instincts but the editor had ignored each and every one.

_"Damn you, Ed," _she muttered, throwing her remote onto the couch as she held her coffee cup firmly in her other hand, "You always did have your favourites," she scowled, "used to be me. _Other_ me." she closed her eyes. "_Bollocks." _

As she opened her eyes again they fell upon the date on the corner of the screen and she felt that horrible churning sensation in her gut again. _24__th__ June._ It was a date that hung over her like a shadow. It was the day that she 'decided'.

"_How can such a positive affirmation ruin a life?"_ she whispered as she hung her head. The final words hitched in her throat as she whispered, "_he's already walking this soil."_

Her arms turned cold and goosebumps filled her skin. She couldn't stare at the words on rotation any longer. It wasn't just the past she needed to contend with but whatever passed for the present too. _Time for work._

~xXx~

"Ma'am?"

Alex looked up a the sound of the door opening just a crack and saw Kim stepping hesitantly inside.

"Morning," she smiled, "what can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering," Kim said quietly, "if there was any news?" she hesitated, "any information about Layton?"

Alex's smile dropped from one of happiness at seeing Kim to one of sympathy.

"No, Kim," she said quietly, "I'm sorry." Her heart sank as she watched Kim trying not to let the anxiety show on her face. Kim wasn't good at allowing others to see her emotions so when a little showed through the cracks it certainly worried her. "I promise we'll keep you updated on any developments."

Kim didn't seem satisfied.

"I wish I was out there searching," she said, even though she knew it wasn't her job.

"We don't know whether he was involved for certain," Alex reminded her.

"He's still out there somewhere when he shouldn't be," Kim said crossly.

Alex closed her eyes momentarily. She could feel Kim's anger and she understood it only too well.

"Gene's talking to a source today," she told Kim, "he's hoping to find out what connection if any Layton has to the murder. The slightest hint that he's behind it and his face will be on every news broadcast between now and July."

"And if he's not?" Kim asked quietly.

Alex gave a deep sigh.

"Then," she began," it will only be a matter of time before he does something. He'll screw up somewhere and next time he's on the inside it won't be as easy to buy his way to freedom." She looked at Kim seriously." I promise you, Kim." she hesitated as Kim seemed reluctant to leave. "Was there anything else I could do for you?" she asked and Kim bit her lip.

"There was _one_ other thing," she said. The fact that she hesitated before carrying on said a lot, both about her uneasiness over the situation as well as her continued nerves around Alex. Alex had to admit that she found it endearing and flattering, and tried not to let Kim know that. She knew Kim wouldn't be happy if anyone, least of all Alex, picked up on it.

"What is it?" she asked, "do you want to sit down?"

Kim hesitated for a second, then quickly closed the door and scuttled over to the seat in front of her. She sat down and brushed imaginary lint from her trousers to give herself a distraction before she admitted quietly,

"It's the new girl Ma'am," she looked at Alex a little sadly. "I think I'm failing her."

"Failing her how?" Alex asked. She put down her pen and turned fully to Kim as she took a deep breath and gave a monstrous sigh.

"It's my first one, ma'am," she groaned, "and I know you know how hard this stuff is. We've both been on the other side of it and you've seen lots of people coming in and out, staying for a while and then moving on or heading home." she closed her eyes. "It's my first one and I feel out of my depth."

Alex gave Kim a sympathetic smile. She was right, they _had_ all experienced it.

"It's not the easiest thing in the world to deal with, Kim," she said quietly, "there are rules in this world, hard rules and we have to follow them. It doesn't give a lot of leeway for anything else."

"I know. I know that," Kim nodded, "it's just that..." she looked at Alex and suddenly seemed a bit like a lost dog, "she's not even a _copper_, Ma'am. If she was then I'd know what to do or say... OK, maybe not _know_ but I could at least _guess_... instead I've got her trailing around, sharpening pencils, drawing caricatures of Simon in the squirrel suit on the toilet walls and helping me design my next bloody _tattoo! _She can't investigate cases, she can't interrogate suspects, it's impossible to know what to _do_ with her! Why is she here?"

Alex shook her head with a slow, sad smile.

"Kim," she said quietly, "I don't know. None of us do. But you're not entirely without experience." she paused. "Remember Eddie?"

Kim have a slightly sad smile.

_"Eddie," _she repeated, "the stapler guy, of course I do."

"You helped him more in his early days than Gene or I could," Alex reminded her, "you told him straight how to get on here without saying anything you shouldn't. You guided him and helped him to make the most of every day he spent here. Both Gene and I were very grateful for that. And you were just a young DS back in those days, Kim. Look at you now."

Kim felt herself blushing and cursed herself. She tried not to let Alex see how flustered she was by the compliments.

"I'm just scared that I'm not up to this, Ma'am," she said quietly, "I'm scared of getting it wrong."

"So are the rest of us, every day," Alex reminded her, "but we all know what we have to do. We follow our instincts and we help them through. All you need to do is _talk_ to her, Kim. I know there are so many things you can't say and I know how hard that is – I remember my very first attempt," she smiled distantly, "it was with a young DI Shoebury, nineteen eighty five." she saw Kim smile and try not to giggle, "I almost messed things up because I didn't know how to go about it, but soon I got into my stride, and you will too." she nodded to Kim. "Talk to her. Offer her an ear for when she wants to talk. And let her find her feet here at her own pace. She _will_, as difficult as it seems right now. And your support will be the catalyst for that."

Kim gave Alex a slightly coy smile. She wasn't used to praise and encouragement, nor did she know how to handle it but she was terribly grateful for it. She stood up and shuffled to the door.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "thank you, ma'am, I really, _really_ appreciate that," her smile grew a little as she said goodbye and Alex smiled back. She knew Kim was nervous and she could understand that, especially as her recruit was somewhat different to the norm, but Alex knew she would be fine. If there was anyone who could handle the unexpected, Kim was the woman for the job.

~xXx~

Em was already waiting in the office when Kim returned to her suite. She realised that the woman looked a little like a kid on work experience; out of place, being given menial tasks to keep her busy because she couldn't be let loose on anything better. No wonder she looked so lost. Kim took a deep breath and tried to keep Alex's words of advice in mind, then paced across to Em as though she'd only just arrived.

"Good morning," she said brusquely.

Em barely glanced up.

"Almost finished sharpening the pencils from the supply room," She said quietly and Kim sighed.

"Forget the pencils," she said. She sat by Em's side and felt a pang of guilt at the 200 pencils on the desk in a big box. This was no life for anyone.

"Listen," she began quietly, "why don't you forget about the sharpening this morning? Come with me to collect some witness statements."

Em wasn't sure what to say. She knew she was the spare wheel in the office, she wasn't an officer and no one wanted her clogging up a desk and hanging round with nothing to do. She felt like a renaissance.

"Really?" she asked quietly, "no squirrel suits?"

"No, this is a case, not a bloody road safety talk," Kim told her, "besides, it wouldn't fit you anyway." That was about the first time in ten days that she'd seen Em smile. It was tiny and aimed at the table more than anything but it was there. "Come on," she said, "make yourself useful See if you can put together a photo-fit of this mysterious library flasher."

"Oh g_od,"_ Em looked daunted, "I don't have to draw..." she pulled a face, "..._those_ parts as well, do I?"

"You're safe, it's just the face," Kim told her. She looked at Em as she got to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. "you know, it might help if you tried to get to know some people around here," she said quietly.

Em said quietly. There was no malice to her statement, it wasn't a complaint, it was just a fact.

"Yeah, I know," Kim nodded. "We'll change that," she sighed as she thought to herself. "Some of us are going out to a local club tonight, you'd be welcome to join us."

"Oh, no, no," Em said quickly. Kim stepped back at the flash of panic across Em's face.

"We don't bite," she said and Em looked a little awkward.

"Oh no, no, srry, iI'm sorry," she swallowed, "it's just... I don't go out tonight."

Kim frowned.

"What?"

"_Can't_," Em corrected, heart racing, "_can't_ go out tonight. I'm so sorry."

"Maybe tomorrow then?" Kim asked and Em visibly paled. She could see Kim starting to look annoyed and frustrated with her. _Shit_, she felt so guilty now. She hadn't wanted to turn down an offer to socialise, it had been the first hand offered out to her after all. She bit her lip and tried to smile. "Maybe Friday," she whispered.

"Friday," Kim repeated. She gave Em a smile and nodded, "alright," she said, "We'll see you then. And _now_, of course." she walked toward the doorway and pointed her head towards it. "Well come on then," she commanded, "this bloke's knackers aren't going to catch themselves, are they?"

~xXx~

The teenager on the bus with the heavy portfolio between her knees basked in the sunshine that poured through the window, smiling as she realised that this was_ it; _the start of the long, hot summer. Oh, she had been looking forward to it so much. The last few weeks of stress and work were fading away and, as the bus turned a corner and headed for home, all she could think about were the 12 weeks of freedom ahead.

_That_ was when she made her promise.

"_My resolution for this summer is to grasp every opportunity. Take every invitation that comes my way. Live every day to the full." S_he smiled to herself as she watched the streets go by.

"_Live every day as though it's your last."_

The only problem with a resolution like that is that one day it's going to be true.

**~xXx~**

**A/N: There are going to be three chapters uploaded tomorrow.**


	10. Chapter 9: Another Turning Point

**Chapter 9**

Her face was as pale and ashen as the corpse on a slab whose photo was pinned to the wall. She could see the mutters and the whispers around her, the officers assuming she'd been overdoing it the night before. But as she'd told Kim, she doesn't go out that night.

"_And I don't 'do' today at all,"_ Em whispered, brushing her fringe from her eye and trying to disappear into her chair. The date was everywhere she looked, like it was taunting her, reminding her at every opportunity that it was the beginning of _that week_, the first of the days she truly dreaded. On the calendar, on the board, scrawled on the piece of paper on her desk... _25__th__ June. _

"Another body turned up yesterday," Gene paced the room, pointing to the board, "this one wasn't a dealer, just a petty crook. We know he was from the same area. Small patches of time inside from robbing houses and shops in the area. Known user."

"Overdose?" Jake asked.

"Stabbed in the throat."

"Oh shit," Marci blanched and looked for all the world as though she might have to make a speedy exit.

"Are you feeling off-colour again, DC Fell?" Gene demanded, "only you can't use the food poisoning excuse _four_ times in a week. Buy now you should have learnt to avoid the canteen."

"No, I'm fine," Marci said quietly, not looking at all fine.

Jake looked at her as the coffee in her hands spilled over.

"Marci, you're shaking," he said quietly.

"I'll be fine in a minute," Marci hissed, desperate to shed the attention that had settled on her hands, "it's just the end of a migraine. I just need to take some pills, I'll feel better soon."

"If we can stop playing doctors and nurses for five minutes," Gene barked, "I'd like to draw your attention to the gentleman on the board whose condition is a bit beyond _help!" _

Alex decided that Gene was on the verge of overheating and did her best to take over while he cooled down a little.

"The man in question is Connor Riley," she began, "a witness claims she saw him arguing with another man earlier in the day. She says that local residents have witnessed drugs and money changing hands on that patch in the past but she didn't recognise the dealer."

"They were arguing about drugs?" Jake asked.

"So she believes"

"Every granny's up on smack, dope and poppers these days, didn't you know?" Gene said sarcastically.

Alex ignored him.

"Em," she turned to the odd woman out in the room, the witness will be coming in to give a formal description of the man that she saw," Alex continued, "which is where _you_ come in. We'll be needing a photo-fit to broadcast on the news."

"It's not really my usual territory," Em said awkwardly, "tattoos... web designing... splatfic fan art..."

"So pretend it's a tattoo and get his face emblazoned on your backside," Gene snapped, "you're a part of this station now, like it or not. Start earning yer keep." He began to pace towards his office door before glancing behind him with a scowl. "No one needs that many pencils sharpened." As the door opened in his presence and he stomped through Em braced herself for further attacks but he was out of words so he simply slammed the door behind him, knocking the calendar from the wall.

"He's happier than usual," Jake muttered before picking up the calendar. The page had flopped over to July which made him panic. "_Shit_," he cursed, "Iforgot it's Rob's birthday on the second."

"The second?" Em turned cold. Her eyes flickered with anxiety and her face turned paler still as Alex caught the strain in her face.

"Em?" she asked questioningly, "what's wrong?"

Em made a valiant effort at wrestling her emotions under control as they threatened to spiral out of the door, taking her along with them.

"Its," she swallowed, hanging her head as she whispered, it's my birthday too."

"_Funny that,"_ Gene said, the door swinging back open just in time to catch the end of the conversation, "because that's not what it says in your file."

"What?" Em looked stricken. She felt daunted by Gene and disliked his sharp tongue but those words had shaken her so terribly that she started to tremble.

"It says February," he said as he paced through CID.

"Well it isn't," She could feel her face flushing as everyone turned to stare at her, thinking she was ten types of crazy, "the file is wrong."

"I'm not sending you a card so I don't _care_ which bloody month you declare yerself a years older," Gene snapped, "I just want you to put those bloody sharpened pencils to use and draw me a bloody _suspect,_" he grumbled, "so many pointy things around here we're being mistaken for a hedgehog breeding facility."

~xXx~

She wasn't much the party type, much less when it came to family parties. Come to think of it, she wasn't much the _family_ type ether. Didn't really get along with them. Maybe she was in the wrong. Maybe she needed to make more of an effort. And with a whole branch of the family visiting from overseas maybe this was a good time to do it.

The girl stared in the mirror as she fixed roller after roller in her hair. _Make an effort just this once. _It was a hot, sweltering day and with the windows open, the radio blaring out and the excitement of the first day of the summer holidays in the air she felt on top of the world.

_Slave to the Rhythm_ came to an end as she fixed the last roller and reached for the nail varnish instead. _Do it nice and early, give it time to dry... don't even think about chipping as much as the bloody England flags..._

"_...Carrying on with the top ten at ten,"_ the DJ's voice sounded as cheerful as she felt, _"here's another classic, this time from Talking Heads!"_

The girl sat on the edge of the bed, opened the pale blue varnish and began to work on her nails as her ears pricked up and she felt a tingle travel down her spine.

_# ...You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack  
You may find yourself in another part of the world  
You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile  
You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife  
You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?... #_

It was strange, that song seemed to crop up in her life whenever she was heading for a major change. It had done for at least two years. She wondered what excitement was coming up for her. Life was good, and the world her oyster.

~xXx~

_#...Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down  
Letting the days go by, water flowing underground  
Into the blue again after the money's gone  
Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground …#_

Em looked up angrily, her hand covering one eye as a headache started to thump around her temples.

"Can you turn that off, please?" she said crossly. She _tried_ to ask politely but her desperation to stop the damn song from playing drove her to send a dirty glare in the direction of Poirot who was attempting to do an impression of the song's video. He pulled a face, made comments about temperamental artists and finally switched it off.

"_Thank_ you," Em breathed a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and tried hard to cool down. The radio had not been her friend since she'd arrived. Wasn't she supposed to hear _messages_ over that? This wasn't a message, just a two-fingered salute.

"_No, his nose was narrower,"_ the elderly woman jabbed her finger at the picture in front of Em and Em sighed.

"_Please_ don't touch the photo-fit" she sighed, "look, you've _smudged_ it now."

The old woman stared at the little grey patch on the end of her finger.

"Have I just picked a drug dealer's nose?" she panicked.

"Just... try to stay calm Mrs Lorensen," Alex said gently, "you've done really well. Can you describe for us the hair of the gentleman you saw?"

"It was straggly," the woman's face screwed up in disapproval. "like it hadn't been washed, Ever." she shuddered, "I think it was brown but it was hard to tell. Greasy. Yucky."

Em took in a deep breath and muttered,

"I'll be sure to draw it 'yucky'..." She glanced at the woman. "Any idea of length?"

"Long," the woman nodded. Em began to pencil it in. "For a man," the woman added eventually and Em froze.

"By _long for a man_ how long are we talking?"

"Shoulders? Maybe? A little longer?" Em sighed and carried on. "...or shorter..."

Em closed her eyes and shook her head. Where was home? Where was two thousand and thirteen? Where was her art, her laptop, her tattoo designs and lovely vector programmes that didn't describe things as being yucky?

"What about that?" Em turned the paper around and finally the woman nodded.

"That's it. That's him."

Alex stared at the page and felt her guts churning.

"That is a familiar gentleman," she said. Layton's eyes stared back, unnerving her. She tried to stay composed. "Thank you. Thank you, Mrs Lorensen, you've been -"

"The other man, on the other hand, was fairly stocky."

Alex froze.

"What other man?"

"The man the greasy one talked to after his argument."

"Are we talking about the man he was arguing _with?"_

"No, dear," The old woman frowned, "this was another man."

Alex gave a nervous laugh to hide her annoyance.

"There was no mention of another man in your statement," she pointed out.

"Well I didn't want to overcomplicate matters," the woman told her and Alex tried hard to keep her temper.

"_Alright,"_ she sighed, _"I'm calm... I'm calm..."_ she took several breaths then turned back to their witness with a large false smile. "So let's talk about the other man. Were did _he_ come into it?"

"After the straggly man had finished arguing he saw the chubby fellow," the woman began, "didn't look very happy. He talked to him. Something changed hands."

"When you say '_something_...'"

"My eyesight's not what it was, young lady, I'm sorry."

"Do you think it was money, or drugs or -"

"Could have been a newspaper cutting about Emmerdale, I wouldn't know. Dear."

"Oh look," Genre stomped in to the room and zeroed in on the sheet of paper, "if it isn't an old friend of ours."

"And the other man -"

Gene froze.

"_Other_ man?" he repeated.

"There's another man," Alex pulled a face.

"_What_ other man?"

"Another man was there," the woman told him.

"Where?"

"Watching the straggly man having his argument."

Gene scowled.

"And you thought it was a good idea to save this fact until now _because_...?"

"I thought you had enough to be going by, dear."

Gene shook his head, struggling to keep his composure.

"So," he began, "this extra man. Do we need a pretty picture of _him_ an' all?"

"Can you please describe him for us, Mrs Lorensen?" Alex asked gently and the old woman looked a little hesitant.

"Well," she began, "I'm not sure... He was chunkier... not fat, just stocky. Dark curly hair... builder's bum... couldn't stop wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

Gene and Alex froze, then they turned to one another, eyes wide as the penny dropped. Their mouths fell open and almost as one they said his name aloud.

"_Sniff!"_

~xXx~

Robin sighed as the clock ticked around. Bloody paperwork. Why was there always a ruddy great stack of it? Did it multiply overnight? It didn't seem to matter how much of it he sorted through there was twice as much the next time he looked.

He heard someone clearing their throat in the doorway and looked up to find Gene there. Robin didn't like the look on his face.

"What?" he asked suspiciously as Gene stepped in through the doorway. He seemed to be looking at Robin a little too attentively and Robin started to feel a little concerned. "Oh _god_, what have I done this time?"

"Its unnerving how you all seem to think you're constantly in trouble" Gene barked, "makes me wonder what you've all got a guilty conscience about.

"Then don't look at me that way," Robin said worriedly. He scowled as Gene approached. "What?"

"I need to check yer vital statistics," Gene told him, "Flex 'em."

"_What?"_ Robin scrambled to his feet and took a very large step backward.

"I need a respectable bicep at least," Gene told him and Robin started to visibly perspire.

"Is this still about the kiss?" he panicked, "I was out of my _head_, I didn't know what I was doing, I really didn't mean to give you nightmares!"

Gene rolled his eyes angrily and cried,

"I need _muscle!"_

Robin leapt on his desk,treating Gene like a very large mouse from which he wished to escape.

"You're not getting _mine,"_ he cried, "Oh _god_, it's like your welcome back party all over again... have you been mixing pills and alcohol again?" he saw Gene taking a stride towards him and screamed, "Kim! _Kim!"_

"_Look,"_ Gene cried, yanking Robin down from the desk and leaving him yelping along the way, "all I want is a bit of muscle to scare a snout into spitting out what he was doing exchanging words and extras with a certain Mister _Layton!"_

That changed everything. Suddenly the idea of Gene investigating his latent homosexuality was the least of Robin's worries.

"_Layton?_ He felt himself shiver from head to toe at the name as Gene nodded.

"Stand there, roll yer sleeve up, flex a bicep or a tricep or a triceratops or whatever it's called," Gene told him, "Sniff's gone to ground lately. Might need a bit of help parting with a few facts."

"_Sniff?"_ Robin began to back away again, "Oh _no_ not _him_, _please_, I still have nightmares about his sleeves!"

"Sounds like he's progressed to the back of his hands anyway," Gene told him. Robin didn't seem any more forthcoming with assistance. "Come and be me muscle or I'll take Metal Mickey instead."

"I thought you needed him _alive_," Robin frowned and with a sigh finally conceded. "Oh _fine_," he growled, "I'll do it." he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, "but I'm warning you, one speck of snot lands on my uniform and _you're_ paying for a new one!"

He shook his head as he reluctantly followed Gene out of the office. He'd never been the muscle before. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: This is the first of three chapters today. The rating will change to M when I post the last of the three tonight.**_


	11. Chapter 10: Lord I Wish It Wasn't So

**Chapter 10**

"Rob?" Kim looked up in surprise at the sight of Gene dragging her distressed fiancé through the station.

"_Help me,"_ Robin pleaded.

"Where are you going?" Kim asked, scrambling to her feet.

"_Help me,_" Robin said again as Gene ignored Kim completely and continued to drag him away.

"_Guv?"_ Kim chased after them, "what are you _doing_ with him? _Guv?_" she started to scowl, "_Oi!_ You return him in the state you found him! _I mean it!" _she stopped at the top of the staircase as Gene dragged Robin down it so fast he almost toppled and travelled down on his backside instead, "I pierced Simon's arse, I'll bloody pierce _yours_ too, you see if I don't!"

She closed her eyes as Gene dragged Robin out of sight and earshot. "Why have I got a horrible feeling I'm going to be putting Rob to bed with a large brandy about an hour from now?" she sighed. Shaking her head with annoyance she turned and walked back towards her office where Em was sitting, resharpening pencils she'd already sharpened two days earlier. Despite a burst of activity that morning Em's importance had suddenly diminished once again and she felt like the eternal third wheel. As Kim approached she noticed the woman's skin appeared pale and her eyes lifeless. "Em?" she walked a little closer but Em didn't seem to hear. "Hey -" she gently laid a hand against Em's back and to her surprise the woman bolted like electricity had burst from Kim's fingertips. Her head spun around, scared and stricken.

"_Shit,"_ she breathed.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Kim stepped back, "what's the matter?"

"I'm sorry," Em closed her eyes but her heart was thumping and she was shaking, "you just startled me. That's all." she reached behind her and rubbed her hand against he back as though Kim's touch needed to be brushed away which made Kim feel a little disturbed and slightly upset.

"I don't have cooties," she said and Em looked guilty.

"Sorry," she whispered, "shirt's uncomfortable."

"Oh," Kim looked down, only too aware that Em had been stuck wearing her old clothes for the last week. "Sorry," she hated seeing them as much as Em must have hated wearing them. "You _are_ free to buy some of your own, you know," she commented, "just because they came with the house..."

"No, it's fine," Em gave the weakest smile and Kim sighed. She recalled her conversation with Alex the day before. She could see from Em's face that there was more than the usual trouble of waking up yet again in a world she didn't know bothering her that day. Everyone had their year. Everyone had their reason for arriving in Gene's world at any given point. From the strange way Em behaved it looked very much as though she was heading closer to hers. "Listen,"she said quietly, "remember what I said yesterday?" Em turned to her but found it hard to look Kim in the eye. "You don't need to be an island, you know. Everyone feels lost when they -" her voice hitched as she tried to find a suitable alternative to 'appear in the world', ".._.start a new job,_" she said in the end, "you feel lost and alone until you put yourself out there and get to know people. Get to know more about them." she hesitated. "I know it's not easy... I'm not the most sociable person in the world myself, believe me. Just take it a step at a time, OK?"

Em stared at Kim. Somewhere behind the layers of fear and sadness was a tiny hint of hope. It was the first time that she'd felt like maybe someone one was her side from the moment she arrived. While she had no intention of hanging around and wasn't sure she was going to do a very good job of socialising - at least not while _that_ week was in progress - she could see the sense in Kim's words and the tiniest flicker of a smile crossed her lips.

"OK," she whispered.

"OK?"

"I'll try."

Kim nodded back, a hint of a smile flickering through her steely façade. Maybe she _was_ cut out for this after all.

"You know," she said, "sometimes you just need to make the most of what you've got. Life takes you where you least expect. You may find yourself in another part of the world -"

Em flinched at Kim's accidental use of the song lyric.

"_What?"_ she whispered. She knew she was overreacting but she couldn't help that. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down as Kim continued,

"It doesn't matter where you are, you just need to make the best of it." she closed her eyes before adding slently, "_That's what I did." _

As she left Em in peace to continue sharpening her pencils, Kim's mind went back to the past. Her first stint in Gene's world hadn't been easy but her memories of it were strongly positive and she had come such a long way. They _all_ had. The slightest echo of a mechanical whirring and a bleep rang through the back of her head but it was distant and fading and didn't really register.

She loved her life. That wasn't something she'd said very often.

~xXx~

"There he is."

"Where?"

"Over there!"

"Which one?"

"The one with the layers of green stuff encrusted on his sleeves."

"Oh Gene! _Ugh!"_

Gene shoved Robin into the pub and they made their way through the heavy, smoky atmosphere towards the man at the bar. Sniff had proven difficult to locate lately but one or two calls to landlords with the promise of turning a blind eye to any after-hours opening that happened to occur during the world cup and Sniff's location became public knowledge once again.

"Get ready to flex 'em," Gene hissed and Robin looked panic-stricken.

"I don't know _how!_" he hissed.

"_Bend them!" _Gene cried.

"_What?"_

"_Yer bloody arms!"_

Robin hesitated, then cautiously bent his arm. Beneath his sleeve his muscles were hidden and Gene gave an exasperated growl. "Roll yer _sleeve_ up, _dogbrain!"_

"_I can't!"_ Robin hissed.

"Why not?"

"_Because it won't go past the muscles,"_ Robin flushed red.

"Bloody hell, Batman, if you want a job done properly..." annoyed and tired of the man's lack of bravado he grabbed hold of Robin's sleeve and ripped it from the seam, leaving him to squeal in horror.

"What the hell did you do _that_ for?" he cried.

"Given you more flexing room!" Gene protested.

"Given me more room for looking like I've been in a_ fight!_" Robin cried indignantly, "why not tear the _other_ one off as well and I'll be ready for the start of a shoot for _Attitude_ magazine!" He stared in horror at his ruined uniform. "What the hell am I going to say if the Super asks what happened?"

"I'll deal with him," Gene shrugged.

"And what am I supposed to say when _Kim_ asks what happened?" Robin pressed and Gene turned white. He stared at Robin for a good few seconds before patting him on the shoulder.

"You're on your own," he said and continued to stride towards the bar. A cross, embarrassed Robin followed suit.

"I knew I had a bad feeling abut this," he mumbled.

X

Sniff was enjoying a pint, watching the pre-match build up and trying to ignore the thunderous footsteps heading in his direction. It _couldn't_ be. Surely not.

"_Morning, Sniff."  
_

Sniff closed his eyes, sighed and turned around.

"Oh, _bugger off,_" he groaned, "I'm not interested in talking any more."

"That's a shame," Gene leaned on the bar invading Sniff's personal space as far as he felt was safe without risking a shower of snot, "because I've brought someone with me who was hoping you might have something for us." he shoved Robin towards the bar and waited for the agreed muscle flexing to happen. When Robin simply stood there looking lost Gene elbowed him in the side and made a few vaguely threatening motions.

"Oh, right," Robin bent his arm and clenched the muscle, "sorry."

Gene's eyes bolted at the surprising physique that Robin left hidden away beneath his uniform .

"What kind of bloody gym are you _going_ to?" he hissed, "are you training for the world's strongest_ dog trainer_ competition or something?" he attempted to calm down before Robin mistook his shock for another attempt at seduction and cleared his throat. "See, the thing is, Mister Sniff," he noticed that the man wiped his nose as though on cue, "my friend here, Police Chief Inspector Thomas, has a bit of beef with a gentleman by the name of Arthur Layton." Sniff's expression changed, becoming more anxious as Gene continued to speak, "and for some _ridiculous_ reason the man in question seems to be out and about again,"

Sniff lifted his pint and concentrated on the foam.

"Is he now?" he mumbled

"Funny thing about _that_ is," Gene pressed, "I thought you were not that keen on the stuff he was offering you to shove up that dripping tap of yours." he watched Robin flexing his muscles again, finally getting into the part and rolled his eyes, "so I wonder what it was the old biddy saw him slipping you?"

Sniff sniffed and panicked.

"What old biddy?" his speech was fast and his eyes wide.

"The one who witnessed him sharing a few cross words with a corpse," Gene explained, "wasn't a corpse at the time, of course. But your friend Layton soon -" he paused as he found Robin's muscles edging a bit too close for comfort. "_Alright_, don't push it, Batman," he scowled.

Robin looked a little ashamed.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Your friend," Gene continued, "Mister Layton, was seen talking to a gentleman who turned up dead a few hours later. _Arguing_, even."

Sniff blinked.

"I wouldn't know anything abut that," he mumbled.

"Yer ears blocked as well as yer nose?" Gene hissed, "I just told you. Witness saw you. We know what you saw, and we know Layton reached into his pocket and found you a little surprise. Want to know what it was and why." he reached for his wallet. "If it was paper, I might be able to double it." sniff hesitated. "If it was a packet of white stuff, I can't help you with that but then the stuff Layton shifts won't help you much either. Not unless you want a fast-track route to casualty." Sniff hesitated. He stared at the wallet in Gene's hands, then glanced at robin who was busy trying to reattach a sleeve using blue tak.

"Chief Inspector Thomas?" he asked and Robin frowned at him.

"Yes," he said, "that's right. Why?"

Sniff hesitated. He took a mouthful of foamy beer, swilled it around in his mouth and swallowed it down before he finally replied.

"Rang a bell. That's all."

Robin knew that Sniff had seen him before, way back at the start of the previous year when Gene had dragged himself and Simon along to ask for some information, but this seemed a little different. He was sure Sniff didn't know his name. He felt a shudder down his spine and tried to ignore it.

"Are you going to answer his question?" he said, trying to take the focus away from himself.

Sniff stared at the wallet again.

"The queen looks good in purple," he said, "don't you think?"

Gene hesitated. He pulled a face, opened his wallet and looked at the contents.

"I think she looks better in brown," he aid, plucking a tenner from within. He held it in his fingers, snatching it back just out of Sniff's reach. "Uh-uh. Not until you tell me what Layton gave you and why."

"Money," Sniff said quickly, "and more than _that_. That's why I need a second one of those." he hesitated as Gene began to fume. "Queen needs a spare change of clothes, right" Gene scowled at him. He reluctantly reached for another ten pound note and held the two firmly.

"Why," he began, "did Layton pay you off?"

Sniff flinched.

"He didn't want want to to get out," he hissed, "didn't want me blabbing that he was back on the scene."

Gene stared at the money in his hand

"Letting him down here aren't you?" he commented.

"He didn't mean _you_," Sniff wiped his nose and looked at Gene, "he meant to the other dealers."

Gene and Robin exchanged a glance.

"Is that right?" Gene raised an eyebrow.

"Stealthy operation," Robin commented. It made sense. Some of the big boys made a lot of noise to scare others away from their patch. Layton had little in terms of He needed to do it the quiet way.

"Thanks for your help, nosewipe," Gene threw the tenners onto the bar and followed them up with a handkerchief, "and for god's sake, wash yer blinking sleeves."

He turned to leave, Robin trotting along behind him, but as they reached the door Sniff called out a quiet, unexpected goodbye.

"See you, Chief Inspector Thomas."

Robin hesitated. He glanced back to see Sniff staring at him hesitantly, saying his name as though those words alone brought him untold power. Robin hesitated. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He swallowed and bowed his head then left without a word. Sometimes it was better not to ask.

_**~xXx~**_

_**A/N: There will be one more chapter posted tonight, and the rating will rise to M.**_


	12. Chapter 11: The Sight That I Fear Most

**A/N: Please note, the rating has risen to M from this chapter**

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 11**

"Remind me to wear a vest next time you want me to be your bloody muscle," Robin pouted as Gene pulled into the car park at the station. He examined his ruined uniform crossly. "I'm going to spend all day looking like a reject from Streetfighter Two." As they stepped out of the car they caught sight of Simon donning his least favourite attire, minus the head, and simultaneously started to snicker.

"Anyone would think you were nuts about that costume, Shoebury," Gene commented and Simon sent a squirelly glare in his direction.

"I quit," he said, "I'm defecting. I'm going to Fenchurch West. Burning in hell is better than burning with shame every time I have to put this thing on!"

"Relax, Shoebury," Gene sighed, "this'll be the last time."

Simon hesitated.

"It will?" he asked hopefully.

"Manchester want the costume back," he said, "self-defence classes." He made a motion with his head, "teaching self defence. How to _nut_ an attacker."

"That's a shame," Robin commented, "I wanted to hire you as the entertainment for my party next week."

The glare that Simon shot Robin undid two decades of friendship and romance.

"I hate you," he muttered and stomped off towards Kim's car to await her arrival.

~xXx~

"...One more talk to go, god give me strength," Kim grabbed her keys and glanced at Em whose face was darkening with every minute that passed. "Do you want to come, or...?"

Em looked up, glad she'd at least been offered the choice. Her lip wavered a little as she whispered,

"No, thank you."

"You look shocking," Kim knew she wasn't exactly the queen of tact but it had to be said, "why don't you go home?" then taking the option away she nodded towards the doorway. "Go home."

Em looked down uncomfortably.

"It's OK," she whispered, "I'd rather be here."

"Now I _know_ you;re sick," she grabbed Em's jacket from the hook by the door. "Go on. Home."

Em felt her heart sinking. The thought of being alone in whatever passed for her 'home' where there was nothing to take her mind off the past wasn't exactly appealing, but she couldn't argue with Kim. She laid down the sharpener and slunk to the door, took her jacket from Kim's hand and gave her a tiny, false smile.

"See you tomorrow, Ma'am," she said weakly.

"If you're lucky," sighed Kim, "I've got to survive an afternoon with the grumpiest squirrel in London first."

~xXx~

Sprawled on the bed, windows open, music blaring, book on knees and pen in hand, the teen enjoyed an afternoon of creative endeavours. The first day of the holidays was a feeling like no other. Nothing matched it. Nothing lived up to it. The buzz of excitement, the feeling of freedom and promise for the weeks ahead.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

~xXx~

Em drove herself a little crazy as the hours passed by. She watched the clock, giving herself a countdown. _How long was it now? How many hours?_ She wrung her hands, she paced, she growled and screamed and cried, trapped in a year that destroyed her.

The calendar mocked her. The clock mocked her. The glorious sunshine mocked her, contrasting with her desperate anxiety. She threw herself around the room, slamming limbs against walls, grasping her head in her hands, just wishing she could dismantle herself instead of living with the fact that she was back _there_, the day it began.

And then there was a week.

One week to go.

One week to escape.

One week to find her way out of the world before her birthday arrived.

"_It's too much,"_ she whispered.

In her mind 1998 didn't exist.

So how did it have the power to destroy her?

~xXx~

"Simon, it's OK, it could happen to _anyone!" _Kim slammed the door and chased after him as he stormed furiously towards the station.

"But it _didn't!"_ he cried, "it happened to _me!"_

"What's going on?" Robin asked worriedly as he left the station at the sight of Kim arriving.

"Nothing," Simon stomped away as Kim turned to him.

"It's OK, it's just -" she paused and frowned, "Rob, what happened to _you?"_

"_Gene_ happened!" Robin flapped his one bare arm, "what about Simon?

"Oh, it's OK," Kim said quietly, "he had," she dropped her voice, "_an accident."_

"What kind of a -"

"_Kim!"_ Simon bellowed across the car park, "not one word! Do _not_ say one word to him!"

"No, no, of _course_ not," Kim tried hard to keep a straight face as Simon stormed into the building.

"Kim," Robin began curiously, "you're not going to leave it at _that_ are you? Come on, you can tell _me!"_

Kim bit her lip and knew there was no way in hell she could keep it a secret.

"He kind of got stuck in his suit," she began.

"What, _again?" _Robin frowned and shook his head, shielding his eyes a little from the sun. "Oh _god_, did you have to get the prisey-open things again?"

"It wasn't the head that got stuck," Kim cringed a little, "it was the body. Zip wouldn't budge at all. Couldn't pull it down..." her eyes darted around to make sure Simon wasn't coming back, "_to go."_ she raised her eyebrows as Robin started to catch on, his mouth open in horror as his hands rose to his mouth.

"_Oh good god,_" he gasped.

"And he'd has three double lattes on the way," Kim continued.

Robin covered his mouth, not sure whether to scream or laugh.

"_No,"_ he gasped.

"_Yes."_

Robin stared from the building to the car.

"And he...?"

Kim nodded

"I think the suit absorbed most of it," she said, pulling a face "but I'm not driving that thing home tonight."

"Don't worry, I'll drive you," Robin smiled, trying hard not to laugh. "Oh _god_, poor _Simon."_

"Speaking of which," Kim hissed as she caught sight of him leaving the building, now out of his suit and in fresh clothes he'd clearly borrowed from someone at least six inches shorter than him. "Hello, Si. How are you doing now?"

Simon narrowed his eyes at her. Had she told Robin? He gave her the benefit of the doubt as he said,

"Alex got a sawy-off thing and got me out of the costume."

"A sawy-off thing is actually a saw," Kim said witheringly, folding her arms."

"Anyway, no more suit," Simon muttered.

"Oh, really?" Robin tried to catch a giggle, "That must be a _relief_ -"

With that he and Kim burst into uncontrollable laughter that left a furious Simon turning red and spitting bile in Kim's direction.

"You _told_ him!" he cried.

"I'm _sorry!_" Kim protested, still spluttering with laughter, "Simon, I'm _sorry_ -"

"You _promised!"_

"It's just _Robin!"_

"That makes it worse!"

Kim felt bad for letting Simon's secret slip and tried desperately to stop laughing. She looked at him seriously and said,

"Simon I am sorry, I really am. I'll tell you what, I'll buy the first round tonight."

"I'm not going out tonight," Simon sulked, "I'm having the longest bath of my life and burning that suit."

"You're coming out so I can apologise and get you pissed so I can make you forgive me and you can't do anything about it," she told him, raising her eyebrows.

Simon really didn't feel like going out but found Kim's offer hard to resist. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Alright," he agreed eventually, "but you're paying for my drinks _all_ night."

"No, only until you start seeing two of me," Kim told him.

"Done," Simon nodded. Hanging his head, he started to skulk away "See you later."

"Bye, Simon," Kim called after him.

"Bye, Si," Robin gave a little wave then turned to Kim with a smile. "Oh _god_, poor Simon. He's not had the best of weeks, has he?"

"Not really," Kim smiled back. She took Robin's hand briefly and squeezed it, sending a warm sensation through his body. Her smile made his heart feel like it was dancing on top of the world as she told him, "I've got to grab my stuff from the office. I'll be down in two minutes, Ok?" She leaned forward and kissed him quickly, then brushed a little of the hair from his face as she smiled at him.

"What's up with you?" he asked with a smile.

Kim's expression turned a little wistful.

"I've just been thinking," she said quietly, "about how lucky I am."

"To have Simon pee himself in your car?" Robin frowned and she rolled her eyes.

"To have _you_ in my _bed_," she told him, "and making glorious food in the kitchen, and parking in the space beside me at work, and dancing with me all night at the club." she saw Robin looking at her curiously. "I'm just realising how lucky I am, after everything we've been through," she said quietly, "I mean, you come here, and you relive the worst days of your life, and then _somehow_ you come through the other side, stronger, fighting every step of the way. And we both went through it, Rob."

Robin flinched as he recalled his time in 1995; the day he became his own hero.

"Yeah," he whispered, "we have."

"Talking to Em earlier..." Kim sighed, "it looks like her '_thing_' is coming up. Maybe today. Maybe this week. Maybe next, I don't know. But seeing the devastation and exhaustion on her face makes me feel so glad that I've survived everything the world had to throw at me. We both did." Robin laid his hands against her arms and rubbed them against her softly as she looked him in the eye. "Look at all the crap we had to go through to be together, Rob. Now the bad times are over and it's just you and me, the way it should be."

There was something about Kim's words, the spark in her eye, that made Robin feel closer to her than ever.

"You make my life, Kim," he told her.

Kim had never been good with compliments and felt her face turning red. She didn't know what to say to that so she responded by grasping his face and kissing him softly again, then quickly scarpering to collect her things from the office before anyone could see her and accuse her of going soft.

Robin smiled to himself as he walked towards his car, the promise of one very good night ahead if Kim's behaviour was anything to go by. As he walked toward his car he thought he caught sight of a blurred mass rushing away from it and suddenly his spine tingled but as he jogged a couple of paces toward it he couldn't see anything untoward. He shuddered. All the Layton talk had left him feeling paranoid. He just had an over-active imagination.

So why did he feel _so sure_ he was being watched?

~xXx~

The girl looked in the mirror as she slipped the long, dangly earrings with the dark blue balls through her lower piercing. She wasn't much one for dressing up but once in a while never hurt. Plus she had made herself a promise, _to make the most of every day_. The dark blue halter-neck mini-dress would keep her cool on what seemed like the hottest day of the year and the smattering of make up that adorned her face looked a little strange to see. She usually didn't have time for that. But it was a party, so she'd tried to make an effort, even though the idea of fielding questions all night about why she still didn't have a boyfriend didn't exactly fill her with enthusiasm, especially since she was finally able to answer the question in her own mind. The coming-out process so far had been slow, stressful and fraught with awkwardness, and a family party was not the place to reveal it to her bloodline.

"_Nicol, are you ready? The taxi's here."_

she looked at her reflection one last time. There was something missing, Grabbing the anklet from her beside table she slipped it around her ankle and fastened it quickly, then slipped on her shoes.

"_Coming,"_ she called.

Nicol grabbed her bag and ran down the stairs. Whatever horrors or surprises lurked ahead there was no turning back now.

~xXx~

"_If I could turn back the clock -"_

Em hung her head, angry with herself for letting that thought into her head. She laughed bitterly. She _had_ turned back the bloody clock, but there was still nothing she could do about it. She'd gone through every option in her head but there was no option for her to change the past. Not that she _could, _anyway. Not according to the book.

"_Why did I ever read that fucking book?"_

She stared out of the window at the people going about their daily routine. They all had their own lives to lead.

Miles away, a teenager was about to begin a week that was going to steal hers away forever.

"_And there is not a thing that I can do."_

~xXx~

"Kim, are you ready?"

"_Just a minute."_

Robin waited by the door as Kim rushed out from the bedroom, fastening an earring as she went.

"You took a long time getting ready," he commented and Kim felt herself blushing again.

"The more piercings I have, the longer it takes to co-ordinate them," she lied, pretending she hadn't made extra special effort that night. Her earlier positivity and happiness had grown stronger and she wanted to make a special effort that night. She felt so thankful to be there with all the people she cared about.

"You're just stalling on buying Simon a drink," Robin teased.

"Oh _shush_, you," Kim told him, grasping him by the collar and dragging him down for a kiss before she opened the door and they made their way out to the car park. As they left the building she swore and turned back, "forgot my wallet," she said.

"Poor Simon will _never_ get that drink," Robin smiled, "I'll go and wait by the car."

"OK," Kim's voice called back as she disappeared up the stairs.

Smiling to himself, Robin left the doorway and walked across to his car. The evening was bright, the days were long and the summer in full swing. The air was warm and a little muggy, but if Kim's behaviour was anything to go by the temperature was going to rise quite substantially.

And yet something wasn't quite right. He couldn't put his finger on it but something felt off. Was there a whisper on the breeze? He felt self-conscious, like he was being watched again and swallowed.

"Hello?" he whispered.

Immediately he felt stupid. There was no one around, except for his over-active imagination. He cursed himself as he watched Kim heading out towards him with a smile. Layton or no Layton, it was time to stop letting his imagination run away with him.

It was going to be a good night.

~xXx~

_Seven shades of hell._

She knew it _would_ be. But at least she'd given it a go, right?

A huge plate of cucumber sandwiches that she wanted to avoid at all costs, aunties with their puce coloured, lipstick-covered kissing lips, the sexist uncles telling the women to get them a beer and the constant barrage of questions about her lack of a boyfriend.

_You all don't know what I'm doing on Monday,_ she told herself silently as she thought about meeting the girl who'd been setting her heart racing for months.

Eventually hiding in the lounge where all the under 10s were watching _Matilda_ seemed like the best bet.

And there she stayed, for a very long time, until her mother appeared in the doorway seeking her.

"Nicol, they're here," she said.

Nicol blinked. That could have meant anyone.

"Who is?"

"Come on," her mother held out her hand to beckon her out of the room, "they've not been over since you were seven."

That _still_ could have been almost anyone, considering that half of her family tree had congregated the week before for a family reunion picnic she'd managed to avoid. She was starting to wish she'd avoided the party too.

Reluctantly she followed her mother through to the kitchen where yet another crowd of people she'd never seen in her life had gathered.

"Now, this is Marina," her mother began as though introducing important business colleagues, "she's your cousin. She hasn't been over since Paula's wedding."

Nicol smiled politely, shook the woman's hand and exchanged half-hearted, compulsory pecks on the cheek.

"Hello," she said, no better at making conversation now than she'd ever been.

"And her three children," her mother continued, her mind working desperately to remember the names of the kids before she gave up and instead pointed out a man with glasses and an uncanny resemblance to Pete Sampras, "and her husband."

The man extended his hand toward her and sent a smile hot on its trail.

"Hi," he said, his manner perfectly charming, "I'm Bob."

Nicol politely shook the Canadian's hand and accepted a glass of wine that he'd thrust towards her after noting they were the only two red wine drinkers in the kitchen. It wasn't exactly party of the decade but talking to a few new faces was an improvement on sitting through _Matilda_ for a second time. Maybe she just needed to give the night a chance. It was still young, after all.

_And so was she._

~xXx~

Em poured the wine with shaking hands, watching it fill right to the rim, a tiny red splash landing on the coffee table. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at the TV screen as _UK Gold_ announced that evening's rerun of a show that was her favourite many years ago. The familiar theme music ripped her heart apart. It hurt too much to think of it now, of how much she used to adore it. It was another thing she'd lost.

"_Shit,"_ the liquid slopped as she lifted the glass and pressed it to her lips. She gulped down mouthful after mouthful, even though it wasn't going to help. It wouldn't do a damn thing. Might as well have been water for all the good it would do. "_Fuck."_

she slammed the empty glass down so hard that the stem shattered in her hand. She closed her eyes, let forth a choking sob and dropped the head of the decorative glass to the ground. How something so beautiful could be so fragile.

"_Best fucking metaphor for life I've ever known," _she whispered.

~xXx~

The music bore deep into their bones and their souls.

They danced, they moved, they sang, they swayed, they drank, they kissed, they spent the night as close as ever, maybe more so than ever before.

There was just something between them that night. Neither knew quite what it was but both felt fired up, excited and alive.

Kim stared Robin in the eye. Seeing Em so adrift and lonely made her feel thankful for all that she had in her life, nothing more so than her relationship with Robin. She slipped her fingers around the back of his head, pulled him closer and whispered;

"_It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you met me in the free cloakroom five minutes from now," _she whispered, leaving a lingering kiss against his cheek. He felt himself stiffen instantly and his heart began to beat at double time as she turned back and glanced at him hungrily before rushing away.

Robin's face broke into a grin of epic proportions. It was going to be a night he would never forget.

~xXx~

She'd never expected in a million years to enjoy a family party so much.

Maybe she'd stopped _thinking_ it was going to be bad and allowed herself to enjoy it more? Or maybe Marina and Bob were just more fun to hang around with than most of the people on her family tree. The kitchen became the place to be; the chat and the laughter and the picking holes in what everyone else was wearing, doing and saying. _Finally_, Nicol thought. _Finally some like minds. Shame they spend their lives so far away. Probably the one branch on the family tree I can actually get along with and I probably won't see them again until they're drawing their pensions._

She didn't notice anything unusual, not a _thing_. Why _would_ she? Family party. _Family_.

She didn't notice the constant refills, and if she had it was surely done out of politeness.

She didn't think anything of the constant attempts to make conversation with her, it was all down to a lack of like minds in the party. You stick with those you get along with, after all.

She was having _fun_; talking, laughing... ignoring the cucumber sandwiches perhaps, but aside from that it was a night she wasn't going to forget.

~xXx~

Em underestimated the exhaustion that stress and devastation brought to the human body. It was barely eleven when her eyelids dropped down over her bloodshot, tear-filled eyes and she drifted into a blanket of twisted nightmares as she slept.

That night had been hard enough to face. It was only the beginning.

One week from then came _the day._

She didn't know how she had survived it the first time. She didn't think that she could possibly do it again.

~xXx~

Tongues entwined, bodies close, hands that delivered a magic touch.

They weren't the _first_ to slip way. They were fairly sure the club kept the other cloakroom unmanned just for that purpose. It wasn't exactly the first time they'd succumbed in a public place, either. Sometimes there was just something in the air. Or maybe it was something in their _hormones_. Either way, they couldn't get enough of one another that night.

Biting scratching, kissing, sucking until finally neither could wait a moment longer for release and - commandeering the bench in the corner of the room - Kim took control as Robin lay back, rendered helpless by the sensations taking him over, the feelings of fiery pleasure that built more and more with every movement against him until he cried out, making no attempt to muffle his ecstasy as he spilled inside of her.

Covering themselves with the coats of unsuspecting people who'd never know that their outdoor attire had been used in such a way, they clung to one another as their body heat fell and their heartbeats slowed to a normal pace. Kim never felt safer or happier than she did when she was wrapped in Robin's arms and he never felt more alive than when he felt Kim's hair pressed against his cheek or could catch her scent in close proximity. They thrived upon one another's presence. They always had.

"_I love you,"_ Kim whispered and the elation through Robin's body was indescribable. Those were words they both knew but rarely said. He held her a little tighter than before.

"_I'm never going to let you go,"_ he whispered.

They felt as though they could hide away there forever. All they needed were one another. That was all they _ever_ needed. All they ever _would._

~xXx~

The bottle was always on the edge of her glass, filling it back to the brim. It made no difference, alcohol never really did much for her but at least it tasted fairly nice. She didn't really question why he was playing host. But then, she was having too much fun laughing at some of the stupid jokes being told to even pay attention. The final straw came when cousin Paula's contemporary, experimental video had declared that _'red was bad, blue was good and green was the problem'_. The gathered family members laughed and declared themselves good, bad or problems, dependent on the clothes they were wearing.

"What am I?" Bob frowned, examining his yellow jumper.

"You're sour, daddy," his eight year old daughter giggled and the rest of the party joined in until soon the night had flown by and Nicol started to wish that the evening didn't have to end quite so soon. _Whoever would have thought it?_

It was the first time that Nicol had ever ended a family '_do_' with a smile on her face as they waited for the taxi to take them home.

"We're here for another week so we'll try to get together," Marina told her and her parents.

"That would be great," Nicol smiled, her promise to make the most of every day bearing fruit already.

"We'll hold you to that," her father added.

"Just let us know... any night would be fine," her mother added.

"We'll definitely do that," Bob nodded.

"There's a taxi outside," a random aunt called out, "Belfry cars?"

"That's ours," nicol's mother announced.

Nicol actually felt reluctant to leave. Was _that_ what it was like to be a social person? She silently commended herself for actually enjoying a night out. Her resolution had been more than worthwhile.

~xXx~

The sleeping woman on the couch was oblivious to the closedown of UK Gold, the logo, the test card and finally the static before the Cable & Wireless channel guide replaced it. Page after page of scheduling rolled around, channel after channel, show after show, until finally it made its way back around the beginning.

_Channel: ALIVE_ it said. _Show title: AMBULANCE CALLED. Start Time: ETA 5 MINUTES_

It showed for a bare few moments before it flickered and died, giving way to the scheduling of channels that hadn't existed in years.

In another world, Em was alive.

In _this_ one, she wasn't sure she wanted to be.

~xXx~

Everyone knew by the sight of them; the straggly, sweat-dampened hair, the smeared eye-liner on Robin's face, the slight tear of fabric on Kim's shirt, the fact that both of them had at least one item of clothing on inside out.

"_Someone's been enjoying themselves,"_ Shaz commented slyly but her spirits fell as Marci barely registered her words. She seemed almost in a trace, so wrapped up by he music that she didn't have two words to spare. That had been happening a lot lately. "Marci?" Shaz's heart began to sink. She wasn't sure why and she wasn't sure how but she could feel Marci slipping away from her and she sure as hell wasn't ready to let her go.

Kim twisted her fingers through Robin's collar.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"_Home?"_ he repeated.

There was a devilish glint in Kim's eye.

"_I need something from under the bed for round two," _she whispered.

Robin's heart started to flutter wildly. He couldn't fight another smile.

"OK," he said quickly, "you get the coats, I'll bring the car round the front."

"Deal," Kim smiled. She leaned closer and pulled him towards her before leaving him with a lingering kiss and heading off quickly towards the other cloakroom. Robin closed his eyes momentarily before he left with a broad grin. The night was far from over.

X

Lurking in the shadows.

Watching.

Waiting.

Two men.

One whose job was over, the second whose was about to begin.

~xXx~

"It's been great," Nicol's mother smiled.

"Yeah, I've really enjoyed it," Nicol agreed.

Oh _god_, it was that time of the night, wasn't it? The stupid _bye bye kissy-rellies_ thing. _Great_. A line of aunts with their lipstick refreshed, just to leave a mark on your cheeks that'll take weeks to shift.

_Fine. Let's get it over with._

One by one Nicol survived the aunts.

"_Bye-bye"_

"_thank you for having us."_

"_It was great."_

"Yes of course I loved your cucumber sandwiches."

"_No, I don't know a thing about the sandwiches hidden in the plant pot."_

"_Yes, it was a great night."_

"_We must do it again soon."_

It came so far out of the blue that it could not have been more unexpected. Nothing _ever_ could. A peck on the cheek and a goodbye for Marina -

"I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay," Nicol smiled.

From one relative to another; a goodbye for Bob. A shake of the hand, a smile, oh _ugh_ _peck on the cheek time. Not looking forward to the stubble._

The next moment, Nicol understood for the first time how strange and unusual time could be because one sentence and one action sent the world into slow motion. Effects that only seemed possible on the TV or in a movie suddenly occurred around her as Bob leaned in and whispered the words that would play inside her mind forever more;

"_I'm really glad I met you tonight."_

Nicol froze right where she was. Never before had the way something was said expressed more than the words themselves. A million questions and thoughts screamed out in her brain all at once. Why did that sound like a come-on? Why did he use a tone like that? It wasn't a bright and friendly greeting from a relative he hadn't seen since she was a little girl, it sounded like a dirty whisper on the steps of a nightclub. Still frozen solid, she could do little to react as in place of the usual goodbye peck he pressed his lips against her cheek and let them linger.

The entire world stopped spinning for Nicol.

There were more questions in her eyes than she had ever asked before. She was trapped in a ridiculous moment that made no sense, on any level at all, and she had no time to even start working it out because the door was open and her parents already halfway through, oblivious to the blot that had just been left on their daughter's life.

"Come on, Nicol," her mother called. She felt like she was on auto-pilot as she followed her family out to the taxi. The last minute made no sense at all, and no matter how many times she played it through her mind things didn't start falling into place for a moment.

As she climbed in the taxi and stared out of the window he was still there, standing in the doorway, blowing a kiss. That _was_ for the whole family, right? To say goodbye. To say goodnight. That couldn't be for _her_ benefit because that was just stupid.

The whole _thing_ was stupid.

She physically shook her head as the taxi pulled away. He was a man more than twice her age, married to her cousin with three kids and a couple of cats.

It was all in her head, it had to be, because nothing else made sense.

And the only other option wasn't one she was even going to consider.

~xXx~

Robin whistled into the dark night sky as he strolled along to the car, reaching for his keys he unlocked the door, opened it and slipped inside to wait for Kim. He leaned back, exhausted from round one and smirked a little to himself as he thought about everything still ahead for the two of them that night. He found Kim impossible to resist. Not that he _wanted_ to.

He flipped open the glove compartment to reach for some chocolate to give him an energy boost before Kim delved into the good stuff under the bed but to his surprise it wasn't a packet of sweets he pulled from inside but a packet of _pills_.

"_What the -" _he began as two hands grabbed him roughly from the side, dragged him out of the car and pinned him against the side of it.

"_Robin Thomas?_" a voice demanded.

"What the _fuck?"_ Robin cried, preparing to fight off the attacker but before he had a chance a warrant appeared in front of his face.

"DI March, Fenchurch West," the owner of the warrant declared, "you are under arrest for possession of narcotics with intent to supply."

"_What?" _Robin cried at the top of his lungs.

"You do not have to say -"

DI March found himself cut off by Robin ripping free from his grasp but two uniformed officers pounced and pinned him down instead.

"Not a very clever move, Mister Thomas," DI March told him.

"That's _Police Chief Inspector_ Thomas," Robin hissed angrily.

"Not after what _we've_ found in your possession, it isn't,"DI March told him.

"That's not mine!"

"It was in your car."

"Someone's set me u-_oof,"_ he found himself dragged away from his car and towards another vehicle where the door was already open and awaiting his arrival. He tried to struggle but knew he would only get himself into deeper trouble. There was nothing he could do. The feeling of the cold cuffs clipped around his wrists was the moment that he lost control of his life and destiny. Somehow Fenchurch West had taken the reins and where that left him was something that scared him more than anything else in the world.


	13. Chapter 12: Solitary Confinement

**Chapter 12**

Robin tried to shield his eyes as the door opened and DI March stepped through from a brightly lit corridor. He'd been awake for 26 hours straight by the time he was taken for questioning. He remembered little from the moment he was bundled into the car to the moment he was dragged out of his cell and taken into the interview room. He vaguely remembered screaming in terror as the car pulled into Fenchurch West, causing him flashbacks to the horror that Keats had put him through, then he recalled being humiliatingly strip-searched before they threw him into a grotty cell which alarmingly said _Keats Was 'Ere_ on one of the walls and had a little cartoon of his allegedly enormous manhood on another.

He felt cold in his short shirt sleeves. The comedown from the high of the sex and the dancing had left him shivery and the cell was cold and bare. He'd been given no food or drink even though he'd asked repeatedly for water. It had been more than 12 hours since he'd last eaten and he last thing he'd had to drink was something alcoholic at the club. His head hurt from dehydration and he couldn't stop himself from shaking.

Nothing made sense.

He tried to say strong as DI March walked into the room and took a seat opposite him across the table. As though the situation wasn't bad enough the fact that DI March had made such an unexpected reappearance had just about killed Robin inside. He had a vague memory of Kim mentioning his arrival at Fenchurch West but that was long since buried in the past by now. They hadn't even been sure if Fenchurch West was still active.

Apparently it was.

"Interview beginning at eight thirty three a.m., twenty sixth of June, nineteen ninety eight," March began, staring at Robin. While on the outside Robin recognised the man with ease there was something different about him. His eyes looked spent and empty, as though little of his soul remained. "Conducted by DI March," he said, "the suspect will now state his name for the tape."

Robin swallowed. He stared at the detective inspector, his stomach turning over as he tried to keep his nerves under control.

"Chief Inspector Robin Thomas," he said, doing his utmost not to shake. He frowned as he watched March take a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and light one up. "What the hell are you doing, you don't smoke!" he cried. He regretted his comment when March frowned at him.

"Unless you're my mother or my doctor it's none of your business," he said.

"You don't _smoke_," Robin laughed even though it wasn't funny, "I _knew_ you, and -" he flinched as he realised that he probably didn't know DI March any more, or at the very least DI March no longer knew _him_. He could feel it. The man was as dead as Gene's pot plants. To Robin's further horror the detective offered out the packet. "No _thank_ you," he said with a frown, spluttering as smoke was blown purposely in his direction.

March leaned back and eyed Robin seriously.

"Where were you last night at eight pm?" he asked.

"Heading to the club," Robin said fatly.

"Where were you _directly_ before you entered the club?"

Robin wasn't even sure whet he meant.

"We parked around the corner," he shrugged, "what are -"

"An anonymous call came in at just after half eight last night from a witness who'd seen you exchanging bags of pills for money around the corner from the Farside Club," March told him and Robin felt his heart stop dead in his chest.

"_What?"_ he breathed, He almost gagged and vomited bile just at those words. It made no sense, none in the slightest, "obviously someone's set me up."

"We'd received a previous report about you, Mister Thomas," DI March told him.

"What? _When?"_ Robin demanded.

"Earlier in the day your name was given in connection to some fake pills -"

"Oh _what?_" Robin sat up straight, his fear giving way to anger.

"Can you explain to me why a large quantity of what appear to be ecstasy tablets were seized from your vehicle?" March demanded.

"Well, _no,_" cried Robin, "aside from the fact that I was set up!"

"The bag was covered with your fingerprints."

"Because I pulled them out the glove compartment!" cried Robin, "I thought they were sweets!"

"You certainly had an interesting pick and mix going on in there," March told him, "there was a packet of amphetamines too."

"I know nothing about any drugs!" Robin cried and March leaned back in his chair.

"Do you take them recreationally, Mister Tomas?"

"_What?_" Robin hissed, "no, I don't!"

"But you _have_ abused alcohol in the past?"

"What – what's _that_ got to do with anything?" Robin cried, his brain scrambled.

"Just answer the question!"

"No! I'm not a bloody alcoholic!"

DI March referred to some papers before him,.

"My previous DCI has reports here of you being in an inebriated sate -"

Robin wished there and then that he could shrivel up and die.

"What the _fuck...?"_

"...and sexually assaulting DI Kimberley Stringer -"

"_DCI Kim_ Stringer is my fiancée!" Robin cried, "Keats was fucking _jealous_! He was in _love_ with her! He was fired from his post here, what does _that_ tell you about his statements?"

"A report was also filed by the Farside Club in regards to your drunk and disorderly behaviour last October," March continued, Robin paling more with every word, "and according to other evidence gathered at the time -"

"_What_ evidence? _Why?"_ it began to dawn on Robin that Keats had been compiling little dossiers for his own evil use.

"...You displayed inappropriate sexual behaviour towards several individuals -"

"_What?"_

"DI Stringer -"

"_DCI!"_

"DCI Shoebury -"

"Wh- he was my_ ex!"_

"DS Dawson -"

Robin felt himself reddening.

"We're... more than friends," he protested.

"DCI Hunt and DCI Drake."

Robin froze.

"Yeah well, they _were_ mistakes," he admitted.

"So we've established that you have an addictive personality and a tendency to abuse alcohol -"

"We've established no such _thing!"_ Robin cried, "what's this even got to do with anything?"

"Just trying to work out the level of your usage."

"My _what?_" Robin's fear had all but disappeared and he had the red mists in its place, "I am _not_ a _druggie!"_

"Well that's for the testing to decide," DI March said casually as Robin glared at him.

"I will piss in, breathe in or bleed on anything you want me to, and you will find _nothing_," he spat angrily.

March shuffled his papers and tried to fond what he was looking for.

"So we've established it's not for personal use," he began, "which means that you must be intending to sell them in."

Robin's eyes bolted. He felt as though he'd talked himself from one charge into a worse one.

"Why the hell would I be peddling _drugs?"_ he cried, "I track this stuff down every _day!"_

"Track down the best suppliers, huh?" March asked.

"_No,"_ Robin stared him in the eye, "track the morons who get the kids hooked on pills and powders, the ones who mix in any old junk to turn a profit, the ones that line the streets with substances that are banned for a _reason."_

March seemed oblivious to his speech.

"So you're engaged?" he said and Robin frowned.

"Yeah," he tried to work out what was coming next. He knew DI March had a penchant for cardboard cut-outs when it came to intimate relationships but he had no idea if that led onto some deep seated hatred for relationships between actual human beings.

"You'll have a whole wedding to pay for then," DI March pressed.

"I don't like your inference" Robin scowled at the man, shuddering as the true horror of his next accusation began to dawn on him. .

"They don't come cheap," March continued, "how many layers of wedding cake will you be wanting?"

"I'll bake my _own_, thanks very much," Robin snapped. March had picked the wrong person to quibble with over a cake.

"And what about the would-be Mrs Thomas?" March pressed, "she's going to want the biggest dress that'll fit through the church doors."

Robin almost choked as he tried not to laugh.

"For someone with all the facts you've not done your research very well," he commented, "Kim would rather wear Simon's jumper than a big frilly dress!"

March ignored him.

"The costs all mount up," he sighed, "even if you try to do it on the cheap, there's venues, the bridesmaids, catering -"

"And you'd know all this because you're _so_ successful in your love life that you've got a whole queue of potential spouses waiting in the wings?" Robin threw his hands in the air, "I don't need the money, for a wedding or for anything else! We make enough money to cover everything we need. Maybe cardboard just has bigger ideas than we do -"

"Huh?" frowned March.

"But it's not going to break the bank. I don't need to peddle pills for extra funds, and even if I _did _need money I'm not going to get it doing something that would lead to all the dogs in my bloody _department_ to pounce on my own car, _am_ I?" he cried.

DI March wasn't sure what to say about that. He hadn't even thought about that. He cleared his throat and tried to gloss over it.

"The tip off -"

"- Was from whoever set me up and I can give you a pretty short list of suspects you might want to investigate at this point," Robin cried. He felt himself panting, out of breath from the anger that was consuming him. It was more than a coincidence that this should happen on the day Gene took him along as '_muscle_'. It seemed that as angry and scared as he and Kim were about Layton being on the loose he had his own plans for Robin. He stared at March. "Kim was with me from the moment we left the flat to the moment we walked into the club. We were barely apart all night," he blushed as he remembered quite how close they'd been at one point, "she will back me up at every step of the way. I was _not_ selling drugs and they were _not_ in the car when we left the flat. Someone put them in the glove compartment while we were out and then called you to tell you there were drugs in my car. The only question is," he leaned forward and glared at March, "whether you are an innocent party in all this, swept along for an easy collar," he swallowed as he realised that none of them knew exactly what Fenchurch West was even capable of left to its own devices, "or whether you were sitting there, just waiting for the call."

He leaned back, his eyes fixed on the DI. March sat in silence, too shocked by Robin's gradual change from terrified and angry to focused and confrontational. He swallowed and shivered.

"Interview terminated at eight forty a.m.," he said and stopped the tape. He shot Robin a killer glare before getting to his feet and leaving, taking his cigarette and his paperwork with him.

Robin closed his eyes and tried to breath a sigh of relief but he couldn't. There was nothing to feel relieved about. His innocence was no guarantee of his freedom. Fenchurch West had him in its sights, even without the bespectacled devil at the helm.

As far as Robin was concerned it was a runaway train. Uncharted territory. Somehow that scared him more than anything.


	14. Chapter 13: We're Falling From Grace

**Chapter 13**

Kim paced up and down for the second hour. She'd been doing it since long before most people arrived at the station.

"Kim, you're going to wear yourself out," Alex laid a hand against her shoulder and looked her in the eye.

"I can't help it, ma'am," Kim said quietly, "I'm so worried about him. I'm so scared, and I'm -" she kicked a waste-paper basket and sent balls of scrunched up paper flying, _"fucking angry!"_

"Bolly, hose her down for god's sake, before her temper sets me booze on fire," Gene barked, trying to get enough peace and quiet to make another phone call.

"_Kim,"_ Alex finally stopped her pacing by holding her arms and looking her in the eye,_"I know_. I know you're scared and angry but this won't help Robin. _Believe_ me, I've been there."

"I don't think you have, Ma'am."

"I've been _exactly there," _Alex told her firmly, "Keats set up Gene, _many_ years ago. He convinced _someone_," her eyes shifted to Simon momentarily, "to plant a quantity of cocaine in his drawer." Kim stared at her with genuine shock. "Evidence showed Gene was innocent, it'll do the same for Robin."

"But what if it doesn't?" Kim felt her insides churning horribly. She wanted to either throw up or hit people, she wasn't sure which. "Ma'am, this is Fenchurch West..."

"But they have no Keats," Alex told her, "and no matter what form that station is taking now without Keats it's never going to be as dark or as powerful as it was before."

Kim wished she could believe that, she really did, but it wasn't that easy. _Nothing_ to do with this terrible situation was going to be easy. She'd been through hell since the previous night when she left the club to find no sign of Robin or the car and took a slow walk in the direction they'd parked. There was shouting and screaming and she'd run towards the noises to see Robin thrown into the back of a car and driven away by a familiar DI that she couldn't stand the sight of. She'd screamed at them to stop and let Robin go but they'd ignored her completely. All they'd told her was to contact reception at Fenchurch West or to wait for Robin to 'use his phone call'. Kim had done neither one, arriving instead on the doorstep of Alex and Gene in a furious, terrified state and for the past few hours a hastily assembled team had been waiting in CID for news.

It made no sense. None at all.

"_Last night everything was perfect,"_ she whispered, recalling the moment of passion they'd secretly shared, "we were so _happy_. I felt so content, so _alive_." she hung her head, remembering the passion, the need and the fire between them. It reminded her of the day in Alex's hospital room when they simply couldn't keep their hands off one another, to Alex's horror. She shook her head crossly. How could thing have gone so badly wrong?

She could see the door to Gene's office opening and Alex walking towards him. Kim tried to stay calm and wait for Gene to break whatever news he had to her but it was hard not to storm over and threaten to disembowel him if he didn't start talking _right away_. She wasn't a patient soul by any means. When he finally approached her she could barely function well enough to speak.

"Well?" she whispered.

Alex stepped between Kim and Gene, aware that they were probably going to whack each other at some point if she didn't mediate.

"Kim, Gene spoke to custody at Fenchurch West," she began, "Robin was being held for possession of an unknown quantity of ecstasy and amphetamine."

"But that's _bullshit,"_ Kim cried.

_"I_ know, we _all_ know that" Alex told her, "the Super's been onto it. Superintendent Fletcher. He's dealt with the superintendent in charge of Fenchurch West CID."

"Who's taken over Keats's role?" Kim asked quietly.

"No one, yet," Alex said seriously, "there is no DCI. DI March is in charge of the department on a temporary basis.

"Oh _god_," Kim closed her eyes, "that's not a good start."

"They can't hold him on what they have," Alex continued, "you've already given a statement to confirm that you were with Robin the whole time and the drugs were not in the car when you both entered the club. They've dropped the charge of dealing but they are considering charging him with possession.

"_What_?" Kim cried, "that's not much better, this could ruin his _career!_" she held her head in a panic as Gene decided to take over speaking for himself.

"It bloody won't," he mumbled, "not letting anyone _else_ take over that bloody flea pit, those mutts will maul half my officers to death." He shook his head. He was feeling almost as angry and disturbed by the turn of events as Kim. Without Keats he had somehow irrationally assumed that Fenchurch West was going to shrivel and die, like Keats's testicles would when he got hold of them if he ever found out that he was back at the helm.

As far as Gene was concerned there were three options and all of them scared him witless. Either Keats was back in charge, or a new Keats of sorts was being lined up to take over, or Fenchurch West was a dark entity in its own right now. A legacy left by Jimbo.

"Stringer, you're not spending yer days with an unemployed doofus attempting to give the lion taming a second chance," he told Kim, "the bloody wild West won't have a leg to stand on." he turned to Jake who had been sitting in silence, shocked and pale, "Dawson. Get ready to check every inch of that ruddy car of his. Whoever's party bag March found in the glove box, we'll track down their cooties."

"They impounded his car, Guv," Kim said weakly.

"Do I look like I give a flying squirrel?" Gene began as Simon looked offended.

"Don't bring squirrels into this!" he cried.

"I'm impounding it back," Gene continued, "I'm double-pounding it, otherwise I'll be pounding some Fenchurch West lackey _instead!"_

"They're letting him go in half an hour, Gene, violence isn't going to help at this point," Alex tried to calm him down as he grabbed for his coat, "wait until _after_ they've let him out and _then_ hit someone."

"They're letting him go?" Kim cried, her eyes widening.

"For now," those words killed Kim inside. Alex looked at the woman worriedly. Kim rarely showed fear but Robin's plight had shaken her. "Kim, I'll drive you," she told her, unsure that Kim would be able to handle it in her shaken state. She held out her hand. Kim stared at her, confused. "Give me the keys."

"What?" Kim frowmed.

"Oh come _on_," Alex sighed, "you might have his car but you don't need to turn _into_ Gene, you know!"

Kim looked a little embarrassed.

"Sorry," she whispered, handing over the keys.

"We'll pick him up," Alex told her, "get him out of that place. That's the first step."

Kim looked at her worriedly.

And after that?"

Alex wished she had words of strength an hope for Kim but she didn't. This was uncharted territory, a station with no Keats was like a runaway train a runaway train. _Evil on autopilot._

"Let's just get him back," Alex told her, "and we'll go from there."

~xXx~

The sight of Robin, so exhausted and despondent, broke Kim's heart in so many places that there was little left intact. After questioning him, March threw Robin back into a cell to fester for a couple of hours before telling him that he was to be released. He knew that wasn't the end of the matter. The drugs they found in his vehicle were still hanging over his head. Any charge could see the end of his career and the thought of losing his job wasn't one he could bear to imagine.

Kim had been pacing up and down in the reception of Fenchurch West for twenty minutes. The moment he walked towards her she ran to him, threw her arms around him and held him close, trying to let her firm hold reassure him but he was so drained and mentally as well as physically exhausted that he just stood there, unresponsive, so empty of hope and happiness. The night before all had been well. Now his life was in danger of crumbling.

"Rob," Kim breathed as she held him tightly, "Rob, it's going to be OK." she squeezed him and closed her eyes. "I _promise_ you."

"Can we go home?" he asked, his voice broken and strained.

"Of course," Kim said quietly as she drew back, running her fingers through his fringe to push it away, "I'll take you home and then I'll go straight to work and get whoever did this to you."

"No you won't, you're staying with the undead here," Gene told her,nodding to Robin.

"I can handle it," Kim sad firmly, "I'm not going to make it personal."

"No but _he_ will," Gene looked at Robin, "and I don't blame him. But he needs to stay well away."

"I don't need Kim to babysit me, I'm not stupid," Robin mumbled, pulling away from Kim and walking towards the doors.

"The Super has put you on ice, Batman," Gene said warningly, "suspended until further notice." He saw Robin close his eyes as Gene's words sank in. It wasn't as though it came as a shock to him but hearing the confirmation made him die a little inside. He'd been set up, then suspended and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"I need sleep," he said flatly. It wasn't a lie. He really did. It had been well over 24 hours now since he last slept and he felt like a zombie. He wasn't going to be able to think straight while in that state. He needed sleep, water and something to eat, and then he'd work out how to get himself un-suspended. _Reinstated_. He meant _reinstated_. _Fuck_. His sleep-addled brain was inventing words now. "Just take me home," he whispered to Kim.

She felt her stomach turn over as she realised how low and broken he appeared. Despite fighting back during his interrogation he now felt as though he had nothing left.

"Of course," she whispered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "come on, Rob."

"I'll drive you both," Alex said, still in possession of the keys to the Fiat but Kim shook her head.

"No, I'll be fine," she said. Alex looked a little doubtful of that but Kim was insistent. "We need a bit of time, ma'am. You understand, don't you?"

Alex smiled thinly.

"Of course," she said. She turned to Robin. "It really _will_ be fine," she tried to reassure him but he barely glanced up.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

Alex stared after them sadly as Kim led Robin away. It was a long time ago that she and Gene had been in their place but she remembered that terrible feeling of dread and fear as though it was yesterday. As though he'd read her mind Gene placed a hand on her shoulder to catch her attention.

"Batman will get out of this, Bols," he told her.

Alex wasn't sure.

_"Mud sticks," _she whispered.

"Then it's up to us to keep hosing him down," Gene told her. He stepped in front of Alex to look her in the eye, "Batman would rather peddle his exercise bike than a packet of pills, Bols. _Everyone_ knows that. So we'll find out who wanted to stick him behind bars, we'll find out _why_ and then we'll go and introduce them to the collective fists of CID."

It wasn't much of a plan, Alex knew that, but it was a start. Robin was counting on them and they weren't going to let him down.


	15. Chapter 14: Carry On Smiling

**Chapter 14**

The feeling of the covers moving then being replaced over his shoulder, accompanied by the feeling of extra pressure close by as someone sank onto the bed beside him brought Robin out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He gave a half-snore and opened his eyes to find Kim slipping down between the covers, glancing at him guiltily.

"Rob, I'm so sorry, did I wake you up?" she asked worriedly.

Robin wasn't sure if Kim woke him up or if he was about to wake up anyway.

"It's alright," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times, "shit... " he tried to look at the alarm clock but his eyes were too bleary to notice, "what time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," Kim told him softly.

"Oh _shit," _he scrambled upright, ""it's almost bedtime"

"It's OK, it's OK," Kim said quickly, "you needed the sleep."

Robin didn't remember Kim putting him to bed. He didn't even remember the journey home. After arriving back at their flat Kim had tucked him in with a glass of water and left to make him a coffee. By the time she came back the glass was empty and his eyes were closed. She'd slipped into bed beside him and laid her head against him, listening to the beating of his heart until she fell asleep by his side.

She'd woken up a couple of hours before him, first calling Gene and Alex for news, then doing a few general chores so that she could concentrate on looking after Robin when he awoke. It wasn't until almost eight that she realised she hadn't eaten all day and made a round of toast to quell the rumbling of her tummy. She'd decided to take it to bed and disturbed Robin accidentally but she had to admit she was glad he was awake now. She just wanted to talk to him. If she was honest she felt as lost and alone as he did himself.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. The scent of the toast caught his nostrils and he closed his eyes.

"Shit, I'm so hungry," he moaned.

Kim held the plate in his direction.

"Want to share?" she whispered, "I can go and make another round afterwards." Robin considered for all of two seconds, then grabbed the slice with the most butter. "_Hey_, I was saving that one!"

"Sorry," Robin mumbled through a mouthful, trying not to spray crumbs over the bed. He could smell coffee too and peered around to look for it. To his surprise there were two cups. "Is one of those for me?" he asked and Kim glanced around.

"What? Oh, yes," she gave an embarrassed smile, "I made one out of habit for you." She handed it to him as he smiled back. "I was always doing that after you died," she whispered and Robin's face dropped, "always making you coffee or getting the brandy when I reached for the scotch, or turning around to ask you something or reaching out at night in bed," she snuggled up a little closer, scraping a corner of her slice of toast into a blob of butter on the plate, then looked a him darkly. "Rob," she whispered, "_Layton_."

Robin exhaled. He nodded slowly with his eyes closed.

"I know," he whispered, "it played on my mind the whole time I was stuck in that cell." He shuddered. "I caught Layton. I put him in prison. Sniff went weird when Gene said my name. Does Layton have it in for me?"

"If he went after everyone who's put him in prison he'd never have time for shoving needles in his veins."

"There was still _something_ going on," Robin explained, "Sniff was behaving very oddly."

"You mean he used a tissue?" Kim tried to lighten the atmosphere but her heart wasn't in it. "Why would Layton have it in for you? Why would _Sniff?"_

"I don't think Sniff's got it in for me, but I think Layton might have been using him to keep tabs on me. Maybe others too. " He stared at the duvet as he tried to get his thoughts straight. "He's been Gene's snout for a long time. What if he's informing both sides? Whoever's got their hand in their pocket at the time?"

Kim nodded slowly as she bit into her toast. It wasn't unheard of. But something still didn't make sense.

"Why would Layton be framing you?" she asked, "can you be sure it's him? Why not any of the _other_ crooks you've put away?"

"Layton's old patch. Bodies turn up on it. Layton happens to be out of prison. Sniff says my name over and over like it's the key to the kingdom. Sniff and Layton were seen arguing, money changed hands..." he sighed, "he told Gene it was hush money. To keep Layton's presence a secret from the other dealers in the area."

"He won't pick up much business that way," Kim frowned.

"I think he's frightened of being picked off so he's getting rid of a few bodies first," Robin explained.

"I still don't know why he would have it in for you."

Robin sighed,

"_I_ put him in prison, Kim."

"So have many others in the past."

"I wasn't nice about it."

"Well I didn't expect you to say '_Oh I'm terribly sorry old chap but would you mind coming along to prison? There's a good sport'."_

"I mean I laid into him," Robin hung his head. He felt ashamed by his behaviour. "I'd just come back here after Layton killed me. We'd had six weeks together, Kim. He robbed me of you. He'd robbed us of," his voice caught as he whispered, "of our baby. He damn near killed you too. I came back here and there he was. It wasn't the _same_ Layton. _It was prototype Layton._ He didn't know why I was attacking him. As far as _he_ knew all he'd done was peddle a few dangerous drugs. But to _me_," he swallowed as he looked Kim in the eye, "he was a murderer."

Kim swallowed, trying not to give in to tears. Remembering those dark days made her want to throw up and scream until her ears were ringing all night long. She moved a little closer to Robin and pressed her body against his so that he could feel her warmth.

"I don't think he'll be coming after you for that, Rob. It wont be the first time someone's come down on him harder than he probably deserved. I've spoken to Alex and the Guv about his past. Both of them have stuck the boot in, probably literally in Gene's case."

"Then why does he have it in for _me?"_ Robin whispered.

"We don't know if he _does."_

"He does. I can feel it in my gut," Robin shook his head, "I never get an instinct this strong without good reason, Kim. I don't know why but he's behind this."

Kim didn't know what else to say. She didn't have any answers. She didn't even have any suggestions. All she could offer was warmth, love, support and comfort so she wrapped her arm around him while they finished their coffee and toast, just holding him for as long as he needed. Finally she pulled away and said quietly,

"Come on, let's go make some more,."

She took his hand and they walked through to the kitchen together. She couldn't remember the last time anything had shaken Robin up so much but she promised him and herself one thing – she wasn't going to leave his side while he was going through this. She was going to keep him standing tall.

~xXx~

On that day, Gene pulled the car from Fenchurch West's jurisdiction and combed it inch by inch.

On Saturday there were nobody else's prints but Robin's and Kim's confirmed on the car.

On Sunday Jake found a straggly hair that belonged to neither.

On Monday Gene plucked a fact from Layton's files that shook him senseless.

And on Tuesday a long distance call took Robin totally and utterly by surprise.

~xXx~

"Yes?"

It was a blunt greeting and not the kind that came naturally to Robin, but then neither did being accused of crimes he didn't commit. The past few days had been a nightmare. Every day he had awoken with a boulder of fear sitting in the pit of his stomach. Every day that he got out of bed and found no uniform waiting for him was another blow to his spirits. Every day that Kim tried to go to work and was sent home to keep an eye on him ground down his nerves. After days had passed and the only progress made was the confirmation that he was being charged with possession his spirits were sinking faster than _Titanic_ on fast forward. The ringing of the phone wasn't something he'd expected. Was this finally news?

There was a strange click on the line and some interference before a gruff voice asked,

"_Would that be Mister Robin Thomas?"_

Robin frowned.

"Yeah, speaking," he aid, "who's this?"

There was a pause and then a slight chuckle.

"_Greetings from the sunny climes of the Med,"_ the voice said.

"Who _is_ this?" Robin demanded.

"A friend."

"I don't have any friemds in the sunny climes of the Med," Robin frowned, "so either tell me who you are or get off the line. I'm waiting for news."

"_That's what I might be bringing you,"_ the voice told him, "_I think it's in our mutual interest that Arthur Layton finds his way back to the confines of a cell, don't you?"_

Robin froze.

"In what way would this act be... beneficial to _you?" _he asked.

"_Man's got the opportunity to hurt an awful lot of innocent people,"_ the voice said, "_he's done it before, he'll do it again."_

Robin closed his eyes and felt strangely churned up inside. He recognised the voice now.

"_Nailer,_" he said quietly, aware of Kim's head raising across the room, "now, considering the fact that you've been at large for a year and a half I'd say that making a call to a police chief inspector at his own home is a little bit risky."

"_I've not forgotten the reason I'm still at large."_

Robin closed his eyes silently. He remembered the day he stopped Gene from arresting Nailer. After his brief kidnapping in 2011 by an older Nailer Robin felt the man deserved a second chance at happiness with Victoria. He hoped Nailer was still enjoying his freedom.

"How did you get my number?" he asked cautiously.

There was a pause and then a slight chuckle.

"_The phone book_," Nailer said eventually and Robin rolled his eyes.

"Alright," he sighed, "i suppose what I mean to ask is..." he paused, not really sure how to prase it, "how come you're calling someone who is duty bound to report and trace your call?"

"_I hear you're duty bound to stay away from that station of yours at the moment," _Nailer pointed out.

"How did you hear _that _morsel of information?" Robin challenged.

"_Little bird told me."_

"A little _jail_bird?"

Nailer laughed again.

"We do get the English papers on the Costa del Crap you know," he said.

"Oh _shit_, it's been in the _papers?"_ Robin didn't know that. His stomach churned and he had to breathe in deeply to stop himself from throwing up or falling down. The thought of that was too much to handle.

"_So, you and me," _Nailer began, "we're on opposite sides of the law but we've got a few things in common."

Robin had an idea where this was going.

"Name one."

"_A dislike for a scruffy scrotum that doesn't wash his hair."_

Robin froze.

"I take it you're talking about Layton again?" he asked.

"_Mister Thomas, can we stop the crap?"_ Nailer asked, "_this is a bloody expensive call. I don't even stay on this long to my mum."_

Robin choked.

"You call your _mum?"_ he cried, trying to wrestle his laughter under control.

Nailer didn't seem very put out.

"_It's in my interest to keep an eye on what's going on back home," _he told Robin. _"I miss my mates. I'm still fond of the old crowd. I don't like to hear of anything happening to them so I keep my feelers out."_

"The first man who died had no connection to you and the second wasn't dealer, just a petty thief," Robin pointed out.

"_Layton starts small," _Nailer interrupted, "_then works his way up. Today he's starting with a couple of men no one's going to miss. Where's he going to stretch out tomorrow? Someone I know? Someone you know? Or just you?_"

Robin swallowed.

"What's he got against me?" he asked.

"_No idea," _Nailer told him, _"but with Layton there doesn't need to be much of reason. He's a perfect example of someone who's overdone it. His circuits burnt out years ago." _Nailer sighed. "_Look, we both have our reasons to want Layton sorted before he brings back the poison. He's been trying to buy friends but unfortunately for him they were happy enough with the ones they already had. Layton tried to pay someone to set you up and when the guy wouldn't do it the lanky idiot did the job himself. Fenchurch West cut the deal for his release, he went to them with the 'news' about your alleged supply."_

It wasn't as though Robin hadn't suspected Layton from the start but hearing it put so plainly shook him up a little.

"_Shit," _he breathed.

"_You're only one person on the man's hit list," _Nailer continued, "_he made the mistake of approaching one of my finest suppliers. Actually thought he could get hold of my quality of goods. Can you believe that?"_

Robin wasn't in the mood for discussing Layton's ambitions.

"So... where is this conversation leading?" he asked.

"_Listen, Mister Thomas, I'm out of that game. I don't want to see you out of a job. Tomorrow night, Monson Drive. Layton's expecting to buy enough powder to make the city think it's Christmas. He's going to find you and your friends instead. Don't mess this up. I don't want to read about any of my friends in the obituary section," _he paused, _"or you. Good luck."_

With that the phone went dead and Robin was left staring on in confusion. A blast from the past had left him with hope for the future.

~xXx~

"Who was that?" Victoria asked as she stepped through the doorway in her white robe, drying her long, red hair on a thick, fuzzy towel. Nailer stared at the phone with a tiny smile before he looked back at her.

"Just a bit of business," he said.

"I thought you were _out_ of that business," Victoria reminded him and Nailer gave a very deep sigh.

"Yeah. I am," he shook his head, "but sometimes the business is still in _me_." He got up and walked towards his girlfriend. There wasn't a day that passed where he wasn't thankful for his luck. What was she doing with someone like him? He didn't know and he didn't want to question it. Instead he put his hand on her shoulders, looked her in the eye and told her, "time to pay back a blind eye. Got a few things to thank this copper for. Wouldn't be _here_ for a start."

"Just reassure me the most I have to worry about is the phone bill," Victoria asked him. Nailer smiled and raised one eyebrow.

"As far as you're concerned, he began, "I might as well have been calling my mum."

Victoria knew the call had been less than innocent but it didn't do to ask. Nailer was out of that life now and if he poked his toes in the water then it was for a god reason.

Now the call was over, the only water he was interested in was spending the rest of the day by the swimming pool.


	16. Chapter 15: So Precious In Your Hand

**Chapter 15**

Gene was surprised that Robin had stayed away for as long as he had. He wasn't completely surprised to see him striding purposely towards his office through CID.

"Batman, you're barred," he reminded him.

"I have to talk to you, it's urgent," Robin said quickly.

"You've been excluded like a brat with the mumps on a field trip to Heaver Castle," Gene told him, "you are treading a fine line by stepping through those doors."

"Its nothing _you_ wouldn't do," Robin pointed out.

"Would do, have done," Gene shrugged a little, "but anyway, even if Fletcher won't have yer guts for garters at the sight of you I don't have time for a critical analysis of the finer points of Fenchurch West and their interview technique. There's a match on, _Mister Stringer._ Hear it's quite a big one." he tried to ignore Robin rolling his eyes as he continued, "Our proud lads are waging war against Argentina, not for the first time." He noticed a pained squeak from Simon and looked at him questioningly. "Do I want to watch our proud lads waging war?" he asked and Simon shook his head, looking depressed. "_Bollocks_. Thanks for that, Shoe-boy!" he thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels as he looked at Robin. "Alright, Batman, Five minutes, make them count."

"Guess who I had a call from," Robin began.

"If its Glenn Hoddle then I'll know why Shoebury was looking that depressed," Gene said but Robin ignored him.

"A certain mister Nailer had a few things to tell me."

Gene seemed to stop breathing. He want a funny shade, first red, then purple, and finally slightly green before he spoke again.

"He did now, did he?"

Robin nodded.

"He keeps his ear to the ground, Guv," he said quietly, "he heard about the _lovely_ gift I had left in my glove compartment. He confirmed what we suspected."

"The ruddy greasy dandruff already confirmed it," Gene told him, "we were planning on making a move. Have to come in and steal our thunder, don't you?"

"Do you know _where_ to make your move?" Robin asked and Gene pulled a face. Robin was probably far more useful to the operation than he wanted to admit.

"Fine," he barked, "what's the story?"

"Nailer's given me the time and location of Layton's meeting with one of his old suppliers," Robin hissed, "the dealer hasn't got what Layton thinks he has. We're not to swoop on the guy, alright? Just Layton."

Gene stared at Robin. He wasn't quite sure what he was listening to.

"Have you got a boner for the Nailed one?" he saked, "only it's not the first time you've gone soft with him."

"Then it wouldn't be a very good boner if I had, would it" Robin said without thinking, and cringed. "Shit, I've been living with Kim too long." he shook his head, "Gene, I don't expect you to understand but Nailer helped me out, a long time ago in another world. He gave me the best advice that anyone ever has. It made me follow my heart and let myself be happy with Kim. The Nailer I knew was different. Older. He'd missed his chance. This one got the breaks he missed out on."

"The _jail_breaks you mean?"

"No," Robin shook his head, "Victoria." He looked at Gene who seemed twitchy and unhappy with the whole idea. "Come on, Gene. You're not exactly one to shy away from bending a rule or two. Nailer's given me an escape hatch out of my worst nightmare, don't you think we need to cut him some slack too?" he looked at Gene seriously. "Being on the wrong side of the law doesn't make him a bad _guy_. There's a big crossover, sure, but it's not a qualification." he hesitated. "there are plenty of bad apples on _our_ side of the law."

Gene hung his head, They both knew of the prime example to that. Nailer was almost the opposite of Keats.

"Fine," he said eventually. He looked at Robin again. "Not exactly pleased to be saving your bacon off the back of one of Nick Nailer's words o' wisdom but if it gets you off yer couch and back in charge of that bloody _mutt_ club to stop them from pissing in my plant pots then it'll be worth it." he stared at Robin. "Got the details?"

Robin nodded.

"Yes Guv," he said, slipping a piece of paper from his pocket and holding it out to Gene who took it and scanned it quickly.

"Metal Mickey knows about this?" he asked and Robin nodded.

"She's waiting outside" he said.

Gene looked at him grimly.

"We keep this low key," he said, "me, you, the metal one -" he glanced at Simon who was trying to listen in curiously, "the fountain of human knowledge over there -"

"What?" Simon frowned,

"And Bolly. No one else."

"What about Jake?" Robin asked but Gene shook his head.

"I don't trust your flapping trap not to mention the little subject of being killed at Layton's fair hands," he said and Robin looked annoyed.

"Gene, I know what I'm doing!" Robin cried but Gene shook his head again.

"Right now in the cool, calm atmosphere of CID maybe, but stuck in the middle of nowhere with Layton's grease running off yer fingertips your anger might get the better of you. Not risking it, Batman."

Robin frowned and began to protest again but decided Gene was probably right, as much as he hated to admit it. He remembered how angry and devastated he was when he last arrested the man. He couldn't guarantee a little of that wouldn't slip out the moment he caught sight of Layton.

"Fine," he said quietly, "we keep it between us."

Gene nodded slowly. Then he handed Robin back the paper.

"Tomorrow then," he said.

Robin nodded back.

"Tomorrow." He waited momentarily but Gene did';t seem to be doing or saying anything so he decided that was his cue to leave. He turned around and started to walk slowly towards the door but gene called after him.

"Oi! Batman!" Robin glanced behind him.

"Yeah?"

"You can take the Squirrel if Doom with you in our car," Gene barked to him, "I've had me fill of Shoebury stakeouts!"

"Hey!" Simon cried.

"That's fine by me," Robin sighed, "we can plan how to get out of attending your stag night together!"

Gene narrowed his eyes as Robin left the office.

"Might not want you there anyway," he called after him, "_And no one who wears their underpants outside their trousers is allowed at my wedding either!"_

~xXx~

Nicol sat with her feet up on the couch, a bottle of lager on the floor beside her, the match blaring out from the TV. It had been one hell of a week. She could scarcely believe how much one little resolution had changed her outlook on life. Deciding to make the most of every day, to push herself and to act like each day was her last had been the beginning of so much.

Not that things had started out all that positively. After the family party she had spent that night lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning the evening's events. She recalled little things she hadn't noticed before. The constant refills, talking to her all the time, almost exclusively, laughing at everything she said even though it wasn't really funny. She had supposed it was just because he felt as out of place as she did. But that goodbye was hard to shake off and made her shudder uncomfortably every time she thought if it.

The following morning she had met up with one of her friends from college for a morning of shopping. Strolling through the town, the night had played on her mind.

"Lou, something weird happened last night," she'd said. Her friend had never really been the caring-sharing type – their friendship was based on mutual meanness and giving each other stupid unwanted gifts and jokes more than anything so her response hadn't exactly been a caring ear so Nicol had decided to keep her mouth shut. It was probably all in her head anyway. The morning passed by in a blur of shops, CDs, videos and the occasional pieces of clothing, as well a being accosted by someone forcing lucky heather on them for an extortionate price. But by the time she returned home she had all but forgotten about the night before.

On the Saturday she made her way to the library and booked an hour of internet time, where she found message boards and talked to strangers, something unheard of for her, The internet was still new and different and an exciting new world. It was even more exciting when she discovered it wad full of like-minded people.

On the sunday she had called up an old friend she hadn't seen in a long time and despite her nervousness they'd set off for a wonderful day together, reminding one another of why they'd been such close friends. Life had been getting in the way and preventing them from spending time together but after a day of laughter and fun they both decided not to let that happen any longer

On the Monday she awoke with one thought on her mind; "_Today I am going to make her mine."_ They'd gone back and forth so many times, making a relationship feel more like a business deal, but she knew what she wanted now and what she wanted was Kate. It had been seeing the pretty blonde move away that stirred up the feelings inside of Nicol and made her realise that she would regret it forever if she didn't at least _try_. They had both been nervous and scared of ruining a close friendship by taking things further but Nicol had made herself a promise, to grasp every opportunity.

Blurting out her feelings was the most nerve-wracking moment of her life, but the spark in Kate's blue eyes as she gushed with reciprocation and they hugged and kissed on the platform before they said goodbye – it made those nerves fall away into the background. Nicol's heart was set alight by feelings she'd never experienced before and she had never felt so happy to be alive.

And on the Tuesday? Well, Tuesday was pretty much a day of rest. But after a week of living life to the full she felt as though she deserved it,

"Oh _what?_" she rose from her reclining position as Beckham slunk off the pitch, throwing evils at the ref. Around her were equally angry frustrated cries from her family and as the match drew on and England found themselves out of the cup. _God damned ref._

The week went on, her resolution went on and life went on. She awoke on Wednesday and began working out her route for a day out in London later that week. Life was good, she felt happy, loved and contented. The family party was a distant memory never to be recalled.

~xXx~

Em stared blankly at the teletext pages as they cycled around again. There was a lump in her throat as she found once again her messages had been ignored. Her last chance gone and D-day a step closer.

"No way out," she whispered. No way out of the day, no way out of the world.

It was coming.


	17. Chapter 16:A Friend Who Bleeds Is Better

_**A/N: Just to say that last night FFnet had a bit of a tizzy after I posted the last chapter and was saying it couldn't find the chapter – it's working today so if you didn't get to read it when it was posted it should be fine now :)**_

**~xXx~**

**Chapter 16**

"Cheese and tomato or BLT?" Alex examined the two boxes and glanced over at Gene who didn't seem to care one way or the other. The finer points of choosing Sandwich One or Sandwich Two did not weight heavily on his mind, unlike other matters.

"What the hell are we doing, Bolly?" he sighed, staring ahead of them.

Alex looked at him curiously. It wasn't often that she heard him sounding so unsure especially not when it came to do with his work. It made her feel a little concerned.

""In what way do you mean _what are we doing?"_ she asked him, "I take it you're not referring to the sandwich choice?"

Gene took one look at the two sandwiches, swiped the BLT, opened the box and promptly removed the L and the T from the sandwich. With his modified bacon butty in his hand he looked out of the window again.

"I _mean_," he began, "what are we doing, waiting on our arses for a deal tipped off by Fenchurch's most wanted to clear the name of a man who's cleaner than that prat on _That's Life_ who used to wash in Jif?

"Gene, a tip is a tip," Alex pointed out, "I'd take Nailer's word over Sniff's any day."

Gene munched on a mouthful of sandwich, chased it down with a swig of scotch and sighed deeply.

"You know what, Bolly?" he looked at her, "so would I. That's flipping terrifying in itself."

"In what way?" Alex finally prised open her sandwich box.

"It's all back to front, Bols," Gene explained, "we've got snouts double-dealing, crims on the Costa del Cash slipping a tip to get the good man off a charge that stinks more than the canteen after the staff christmas party..." he took another gulp of scotch and offered his flask in Alex's direction, "and Batman's not only got his pants outside his tights, he's got his knickers in a twist because someone's slipped a few surprises into the Batmobile when he wasn't looking." he exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "None of it fits, Bols. This is Upside Down-land."

Alex looked at Gene. There was a distant look upon his face.

"Gene," she said quietly, "it's not the first time an innocent man has found himself set up and on the wrong side of the interview room. Happened to someone not a million miles away from me," she noticed Gene's expression glazed over. "What's really worrying you?" When Gene didn't reply she found herself more concerned. "So there _is_ something?"

Gene stayed silent for quite a while, then finally glanced back in her direction. He laid the rest of his sandwich on the dashboard and leaned back in his seat.

"Yeah. You're right. There is something." he paused momentarily, "Bloody bacon, all rind and not even bloody crispy."

"Gene," Alex said warningly.

Gene closed his eyes momentarily, then stared ahead once again to focus on the location Robin had been told to keep an eye on. There was something bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. In a way that disturbed him most of all.

"World's turned upside down, Bolly," he said, surprised by the quiver in his voice "it's not the world we know any more." He could see her looking concerned out of the corner of his eye. "Got too many questions and questions make me feel uncomfortable." He unscrewed the cap of his flask again and took another sip. Questions were a direct route to stars as far as he was concerned and that wasn't something he wanted to encounter.

~xXx~

"Bloody _cheek_ of it!"

"What?"

Simon stared through the binoculars and tutted.

"I can't believe it."

"What, are they here early?" Kim asked

Simon let the binoculars drop as he turned to her,

"Alex and Gene," he said crossly, "they've brought bloody_ sandwiches!"_

Kim stared at him.

"Is that all?" she demanded.

"What do you mean_ is that all?"_

Kim rolled her eyes and gave a gasp of frustration.

"Just because we didn't think to bring a selection of canapés and fine wines from the south of France doesn't mean you should get pissy about Gene bringing a couple of butties."

"Are you telling me you couldn't murder a sandwich right now?" Simon asked her.

"Not when they've brought processed crap from the service station down the road while Rob makes triple-layered chicken towers."

Simon turned to Robin accusingly.

"You always said you were only going to make those for_ me!" _he cried.

"There wasn't much point making them for you after you _died_, _was_ there?" Robin protested, "what did you want me to do, leave them on your _grave?"_

"_Rob!" _Simon cried.

"Oh _enough_ mock outrage, we're _all_ dead here," Robin sighed and silence fell as Simon went back to watching Gene and Alex eating their sandwiches. The sight was making his stomach growl and his mouth water. Kim decided to deal with some refreshments of her own, reaching into her pocket and fishing out the flask that Gene had entrusted to her the day she broke free from the grasp of Fenchurch West. She stared at it momentarily, running her finger along its cool, hard surface before she unscrewed the cap and took a single swig.

"I'm not sure you should be here, you know," she said to Robin.

"Just because I'm a brandy drinker," Robin began but Kim shook her head at him.

"Rob," she said warningly and he hung his head a shade.

"I know," he said quietly, "but you don't have to worry about me, Kim. You _know_ that. I'll be fine. I'm not going to do anything stupid.

"You say that now but when Layton arrives and you look him in that smug mug and remember what he did..." Kim began but Robin shook his head again.

"I mean it" he promised her, "I have too much to lose already, my nerve is one thing _mustn't_ lose." he nodded to the flask in her hand. "I could do with a bit of that though."

Kim stared at the flak. She knew Robin hated scotch but she supposed anything was better than nothing. Giving him a sympathetic smile she passed it to him and watched him try not to pull a face and choke as he took sip. He gasped and coughed slightly as he handed it over. "Thanks, Kim."

Silence fell again as Simon swore, realising that Gene had spotted his surveillance attempt and was now eating his sandwich as slowly and seductively as possible.

"The _bastard,"_ he muttered, "I'll get him back for that, you see if I don't. I'll make a huge batch of fishy biscuits and let him watch them fall down a rabbit hole."

Despite laughing a little, Kim and Robin stayed mostly silent. It wasn't for several minutes that anyone spoke until Robin piped up,

"Is this the first stakeout we've had together?"

"First for all three of us, yeah," Kim agreed.

"Not that we haven't had our moments," Simon glanced at her and she smiled.

"You, me and the Guv, all night outside Keats's flat, nineteen ninety five," she sighed, "that was quite a night."

"Scotch, lattes and pizzas," Simon smiled.

"You were an angry, moody newbie and I was a stroppy, naïve ladette."

"You still are," Simon regretted that the instant he said it as a hard clout across the head put paid to his comment, "_Ow!"_

"You deserved that," Kim told him, opening the door of the car.

"Wait, where are you going?" Simon frowned, wondering if she was about to storm off in protest at his remark.

"For a _piss_," Kim frowned.

Simon cringed.

"Oh."

"Is that OK with you?" Kim asked, "only _some_ of us prefer to _leave_ the car before relieving ourselves -"

"_Out,"_ Simon barked, pointing towards the door. Smirking a little, Kim slipped out of the door and scuttled away to the bushes beside the road. He sighed and shook his head. "This has been the most humiliating fortnight of my life."

"Doesn't compare to mine," Robin commented and Simon felt a little guilty.

"Sorry," he said quietly. He glanced out of the window, watching Kim trying to find the largest bush. "Bloody hell, she never did gain elegance, did she?"

Robin stared at her out of the window, smiling as she caught sight of him watching and shooed him away with her hand.

"Wouldn't want her to," he said quietly, "wouldn't be Kim."

Simon nodded slowly.

"No," he agreed, "it wouldn't."

"She's been amazing this week," Robin mused out loud, "only thing that's kept me sane."

Simon still felt a little strange from time to time when he saw his best friend filling the place in Robin's life that he'd taken for so many years. He felt no malice towards them any longer but it still felt strange.

"She does that," Simon agreed as Robin glanced at him curiously, "keeps you sane. It was after she went home that I lost the plot," he found Kim had left her flask behind and took a swig, "_big-time._" he felt a little ashamed as he recalled his behaviour in those dark months. "What a mess you found me in when you came back, Rob."

"You'd been through hell," Robin said quietly.

"Imagine if you hadn't met Kim," Simon began, "what if you turned up waiting to fall into my arms?"

"I did, didn't I?" frowned Robin.

"That was fainting, it doesn't count." Simon took another swig. "Besides, you fell in the road." He was straying from his point. "Do you think it would have even worked out, Rob?" he could feel Robin's eyes on him but he didn't want to meet his stare, "when you came back? If you hadn't met Kim?"

Robin seemed to go into deep thought for a moment. He breathed out heavily but didn't say anything for a while.

"I don't know that it's even a good idea to think about that stuff, Si," he said uncomfortably, "no one really knows."

"We'd both changed so much," Simon admitted, "you were so much stronger while I fell apart."

"We'd still have balanced out," Robin said quietly. He shook his head, "but you're right. It wasn't just that. Too many things had changed."

"So you don't think we could have made it?" Simon asked.

"I didn't say that," Robin looked at him, "but..." he trailed away.

"What?"

Robin bit his lip. He realised he'd been doing that less lately. A lifelong habit that he was finally breaking by chance.

"I wasn't the only one who'd met someone," he admitted.

Simon felt his face flushing and tried to distract Robin's thoughts from going in that direction.

"Yeah, I had a _queue_ of potential love interests just waiting to get a piece of my jumper," he scoffed.

"You know who I mean," Robin said quietly. He noticed Simon looked down and became awkward and nervous. "Have you..." Robin swallowed, "_seen_ him... at all... anywhere?"

Simon closed his eyes. He hadn't. He'd seen shadows, he'd seen coats disappearing out of view around corners, he'd heard footsteps and seen a blur at the window but there was no proof that any of them had been Keats.

"Not since Christmas," he said quietly.

_"Christmas?"_ Robin frowned, "you never told me that."

It's not an easy topic of conversation," Simon said uncomfortably he squired and drew comfort from Kim's flask as he said, "he left me a present."

"An exploding present?" was Robin's first response. Simon didn't reply. "A _poisonous_ one? A _painful_ one?"

"No, a proper one," Simon's voice shook a little, "bottle of scotch." He frowned as Robin tried not to laugh. "I'm not joking, Rob."

"_Keats_ gave you a _present?" _Robin shook his head, "Simon, why would he -" he trailed away as he saw Simon looking ever more awkward. "I'm sorry," Robin felt guilty for pressing the subject, "I'm sorry, Si. I didn't mean..." he looked away. "It was _nervous_ laughter more than anything..."

He felt torn when it came to Simon's feelings for Keats. There were so many emotions mixed up into it. Concern for Simon's sanity and safety, fear that he could be in danger, hatred for what Keats had done to the people he cared about most and even a little jealousy. But then again there had been one time he had seen the human Keats bursting through. One time he'd seen a little of the man that until that point only Simon had usually been privileged to see. There had been a hint of genuine affection and Robin wasn't sure how to handle that. "but you haven't seen him since?" he asked. Simon shook his head.

"Nope."

"Do you _want_ to?"

Simon looked stricken. He didn't want to answer that question because he didn't know how Robin was going to handle the answer so instead he drank a lot of scotch, stopping when the car door opened and someone swiped it away from him.

"_Oi!"_ Kim cried, shaking it to see how much was left, "this has got to last us all night, you know!" she tucked herself back into the seat, refastening the cap angrily. "What time did your friend Nailer say the deal was taking place?"

"He didn't," Robin sighed, "we just have to wait."

"I don't think we're going to be waiting for very long," Simon pointed towards a tall, skinny man walking very slowly towards an alleyway on the corner of Monson Road. He had dark, curly hair and large sunglasses that were well and truly out of place in the dusk. He was also wearing a shell suit.

"Oh my _god_," Kim stared ahead, "it's not _us_ he needs, it's the _fashion_ police."

"Nailer didn't warn me about his fashion sense," Robin almost choked, "I know we're in the past but, _shit! _What decade does he even think he's _in?"_

"He's probably been on the same trip since nineteen ninety one and doesn't even realise that he looks..."

"Like a twat?" Simon volunteered.

"I was going to say stupid but yours is more accurate," Kim agreed.

Simon peered through the binoculars at Gene and Alex. From the way they were pointing and going into hysterics he could see they had also spied the unfortunately dressed gentleman.

"Nice to see they're keeping it so professional," Kim commented.

"At least they didn't leave to have a piss," Simon challenged.

"At least I didn't do mine in the car," Kim threw back and Simon's face clouded over worse than the sky before a hurricane.

"_Shit,"_ he mumbled. That was going to be Kim's response to everything for the rest of his life.

Silence descended as they waited. Nothing could happen until Layton arrived and they all feared that he wouldn't. Anything could have happened – he could be lying in a gutter somewhere with a needle sticking out of his arm. He could he lying in an alley with a _knife_ sticking out of his _chest_. The only thing that none of them considered was whether Nailer could be lying. It was strange but somehow they trusted him more than anyone.

Ten minutes passed and there was no sign of Layton.

"If he doesn't come soon that guy's going to disappear, I know it," Robin said worriedly.

"Robin -" Simon began but Robin shook his head.

"He's starting to look suspicious, he's not going to risk that. He's doing a favour for Nailer -"

"Which is all the more reason to see it through," Simon pointed out, "Nailer still has a lot of friends, you said so yourself."

"Hang about, here we go, dandruff patrol," Kim said quickly, pointing to a figure skulking along the road. The radio sprang into life at the same moment as Gene caught sight of Layton too.

"_Come in rainbow Brigade,_" he said and a cross Kim picked up the radio.

"Is that the dinosaur exhibit at the natural history museum?" she challenged.

There was a mumble on the line.

"_Less of your lip, unless you want me to rip the metal out of it."_ There was a pause, _"you spotted the slimey one?"_

"Got him in our sights, Guv," Kim confirmed.

"_Guv,"_ Simon repeated, Kim looked at him with a frown. "You always call them Guv and ma'am," Simon pointed out, "even now."

Kim blinked.

"And?"

"You're on the same level as they are, Kim," Simon pointed out.

"_You_ call him Guv sometimes," she pointed out.

"Maybe now and then but not that much," Simon shrugged.

Kim didn't give Simon a proper answer because it wasn't something she had ever thought about. It wasn't something she even realised she was doing.

"Look out, here we go," Robin prepared for action as Layton approached the man. Clearly he had more on his mind than his attire. He seemed jittery, the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy and he could barely look at the man.

"So much for his rehabilitation programme," Kim commented, "he looks like he's in desperate need of something."

"That's how his drugs end up so deadly," Simon commented quietly, watching through his binoculars as the two men conversed, "takes a little too much for his own personal needs. Puts a bit too much extra in to make it stretch as far as he needs to. Not fussy what he throws in there. "

"Or what anyone _else_ does," Robin added, "this is probably his new leaf. Better quality supply." As they watched the gentleman took a package the size of his hand from inside his shell-suit. It seemed to be bound with silver heavy duty tape. He held it out and Layton took it, testing its weight, then he held out his other hand and the man discretely slipped a tablet into it which Layton looked at surreptitiously. He spoke a few words and nodded then turned away but the man paced towards him, yelling something about money. Layton froze and glanced back as the man angrily continued to rant.

"We need the money to change hands," Simon commented unnecessarily but soon that was the least of their problems as Layton unexpectedly pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it in the direction of the man instead.

""Woah, no we don't," Robin cried, his heart thumping.

"_Go," _Kim barked, throwing open the door and moving faster than Simon trying to escape a day in the squirrel costume. Simon and Robin followed while from their own vehicle Gene and Alex ran as fast as they could. Gene aimed his gun in Layton's direction as Kim did he same.

"_Drop your weapon!"_ Kim's voice was strong and sharp and made Layton freeze up. The only part of him that moved were his eyes, turning in her direction. "_I said drop your weapon!"_ she cried again and for a moment it looked for everything as though Layton was going to do just that, but as his eyes flicked from Kim to Robin a very different expression overcame him. The fear was replaced by fury and from his eyes a look of desperation and anxiety fixed itself on the dark-haired man that Layton had never expected to see.

"_No!_" he cried, taking everyone by surprise as he began to lunge in Robins direction, "Why won't you get out of my_ head?!"_

Those words scared Robin as much as they shocked him.

"What?" he breathed, "_Shit -_" Layton's gun was in his face and he prepared for the worst as his ears picked up the deafening sound of a gunshot but instead of a searing pain the only thing he felt was the heaviness of Layton falling against him as he screamed.

"_My foot!" _he yelled, "she shot my fucking _foot!"_

Kim didn't want to admit how hard her heart was pounding or how terrified she'd been by the sight of Layton's gun trained upon Robin. She tried to keep herself cool, calm and composed as she prepared to cuff him with Gene's help.

"Think yourself lucky I'm a bad shot," she said, defying her nerves with strong words, "I was aiming for your bollocks."

Layton stared up at Robin as Simon reached for him, worried by his pale face.

"Rob, it's OK," he said gently as he tried to hold him but Layton demanded attention.

"You're not even supposed to _be_ here," he spat like a rabid animal, "you're supposed to be locked _up!"_

"Oh _am_ I now?" Robin breathed, swallowing hard.

"Why are you always in my _head?" _Layton screamed as Gene and Kim finally got his hands under control long enough to cuff them, "nightmares, fucking _nightmares!_ The visions -"

"Maybe you should lay off your own goods," Gene told him but Robin was fixed in Layto';s venomous stare and shaken by his words.

"What?" he whispered.

"I want you _dead_ and I don't know _why!"_ Layton cried, "_turn your head! _I don't want to see your eyes!"

Those words sent Robin cold. His mouth fell open and in fear he turned away, barely able to stay upright.

"Rob, what is it?" Simon asked in concern.

"___They want me to kill you. They want you to die."_

"No, no, _no,"_ Robin covered his ears and pulled away from Simon's arms, "stop him from talking!" he begged as Kim looked at him in alarm.

""___They're in my head. I can hear them. Voices."_

"Right, that's enough from _you_," Kim kicked him in the backside as he jabbered away, "we've heard enough of _your_ voice. Get him in the car."

She put away her gun and watched Gene and Alex drag the gibbering Layton towards the Aston Martin before turning to Robin with worried eyes. "Rob?" she trotted after him as he began to walk away, "Rob, what's wrong?"

Robin swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Let's just get out of here," he whispered.

"Not until you tell me why you're freaking out," Kim ran to him and put a hand on his arm, "_Hey!"_ she looked at him seriously. "Talk to me, Rob. _Talk_ to me."

Robin could hardy get a word out. He swallowed and looked a Kim in fear.

"Those words," he whispered, "He said them before."

"What?" Kim frowned, "When?"

Robin looked down. He didn't know what to say.

"Not here," he whispered eventually. That was the last thing Kim could prise from him. He couldn't face explaining. Not yet.

"Alright," Kim said softly, "let's just get you out of here. OK?" she put an arm around his back and led him gently to the car. "Come on."

Simon stood in the middle of the now empty street, looking from one car to anther. The last few minutes might have helped Robin to clear his name but they'd sullied his nerves.

"_Why do I suddenly feel like the world is closing in?"_ he whispered.

He shuddered as he followed Kim and Robin back to the car. There was something strange In the air and it was more than the smell of Layton's unwashed armpits.

~xXx~

_**A/N: There will be another, shortish chapter up later and tomorrow there will be either 2 or 3 chapters, depending on how I decide to post them. Advance warning of dark, distressing themes.**_


	18. Chapter 17: The World Is That Way

_**A/N: Sorry, I was supposed to post this last night but I was too tired to finish editing it. There will be another chapter later this morning and two tonight**_

**Chapter 17**

Robin stared at nothing as a small glass of something appeared in front of him.

"I know you're not fond of the stuff but I thought it might help," Alex told him with concern as Robin gave a half-smile and accepted the glass.

"Thanks," he whispered.

CID was all but deserted except for those who'd been on the stakeout. Kim had wanted to take Robin straight home but there were other matters to deal with first. While she was busy filling in paperwork Alex had news for Robin.

"We found some interesting sweeties in his pockets," she told him, "they've gone for testing but they do appear to be the same pills he offered your glove compartment as a gift."

Robin nodded slowly.

"the only part that surprises me is that he hasn't consumed them all yet."

"Between that, his comment about you being in the cells and the part of his statement where he just declared that that he'd '_wasted his time setting up the floppy-haired poof'_ I'm not expecting the charges to still be there by morning," she said and Robin sighed.

"Charming," he commented.

Alex looked at him anxiously.

"Do you want to talk about it, Rob?" she asked and Robin looked down. He didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't sure he had a choice though.

"Alex," he said quietly, "it's not possible."

"What isn't?"

"The words he said," Robin swallowed as he finally looked her in the eye, "I've heard them before."

Alex sat down beside him and frowned curiously.

"When?" she asked quietly. Robin looked down, reluctant to go on. "Tell me, Robin." she paused, "where did you hear them?"

"From Layton," Robin's blood ran cold as he looked up. "Alex... it's what he said to me before he shot me," just to confirm that he meant what she thought he meant he added, "when I died. When he killed me."

Alex stared at him. Her lips twitched into a smile through nothing other than nervous confusion.

"Robin," she said quietly, "that's not possible."

"I know that," Robin breathed, "I know, I know. That's what I just said. But it's true."

"This isn't the Layton who killed you, Robin," Alex said patiently, "he'll _become_ him but -"

"He said those very words," Robin said firmly, "I know how it sounds but he _did_." he shook his head and looked at Alex. "I don't understand how it's possible. I don't know what to say, Alex. All those things, he said them before he shot me. All that stuff about the voices telling him to kill me. Being in his head." he closed his eyes. "It makes no sense to me either, Alex. I _know_ this isn't the same Layton but somehow..." he shook his head, "they're connected or the other one is filtering through... he's seeing echoes of the future? I don't know. I can't explain it," he stared at the alcoholic measure in front of him. "And that scares me more than anything."

Alex shuddered as Robin downed the scotch and coughed at the favour. It scared her too, more than she wanted to admit.

"Robin," she began calmly, "it's been a very difficult day, A really difficult _week_. You're shattered and I don't blame you. Whatever happened today, why ever Layton said those things isn't really important. What matters is that your name will be cleared, Layton is back inside and you are free to enjoy your birthday without this hanging over your head. Let Kim take you home and look after you,. Tomorrow's a new day, Rob."

As he looked at her he could see she meant it no more than he believed it. She was as worried as he was, but this wasn't a good time to talk about it. Maybe that time would never come. He didn't have the mental energy to think about it any longer.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "you're right. 'll do that." Almost on cue Kim arrived and smiled at him a little tiredly.

"Ready to go, Rob?" she asked.

Robin nodded and got to his feet.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand. He took it gratefully and they both gave Alex a tired wave. "Goodnight, Ma'am,"Kim said.

Alex smiled but her eyes were dark and worried.

"Goodnight, both of you," she said and felt a heavy sinking feeling in her chest as she watched them leave. Robin's words rang through her head as she stood up and turned around. Gene's office door hung open and the Guv was fishing a bottle from his drawer. She sighed and reluctantly walked towards him and he reached for an extra glass as he saw her approach. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked him.

Gene held a glass out in her direction.

"Every ruddy word of it," he said.

"That explains the bottle," Alex commented as he poured scotch for them both. She looked into the liquid in her glass and gave a sigh that came out louder than she anticipated.

"The answer is no," said Gene.

"I haven't even asked the question yet!"

Gene gulped his scotch as Alex sat down.

"I'll tell you how yer question was going to go," he said, "in fact, I'll tell you how the whole conversation was going to go." he leaned back as she raised an eyebrow, "you ask me if its ever happened before," he sighed, "things filtering in from out there to the natives. I say no. You ask me how it's possible and I say I don't know. You bring up twenty other things that have happened in me world in the last _x_-number o' years, I ignore you. You point out changes in me world that scare seven shades of shit out of me, I make a sarcastic comment. You make a second terrifying observation, I ignore it and go for sexual innuendos instead. You tell me off, I huff a bit,we end up calling it a day and bugger off to bed." he sighed deeply. He was tired. The world had grown strange and he had grown weary of the changes. This wasn't the time to think about them. "So can we skip the middle man, Bols?" he drank the rest of his scotch and sat down the glass. "Layton and his secret broadcast from two thousand and bollocks will still be there tomorrow, so for tonight let's go home, open a bottle of red, wrap Batman's bloody birthday present and bonk until we break the bed."

Alex raised her eyebrow. She swilled the liquid around in the glass as the end of Gene's comment played through her mind and she tried not to smirk.

"Well," she said, "you certainly seem to have it all planned out."

"Organisation is me middle name," he told her.

"I hope you'll not be using it in our vows," Alex commented cheekily. She breathed in deeply, Gene's sheer presence helping her nerves to subside as she finished her drink. "Alright." she got to her feet and nodded.

"Alright what?"

Alex looked as tired as Gene felt.

"The world will still be standing in the morning," she said, "we'll work out what to do when it comes." she held out her hand to link arms which a slightly self-conscious Gene did with some reluctance. "Now let's go and break that bed."


	19. Chapter 18: Life Indeed Can Be Fun

**Chapter 18**

A young woman sat alone in her bedroom. It was just another day, the middle day, the second of July. It split the year in half.

It was a warm, muggy day, full of sunshine and hope and despite the unpleasant early surprise that mother nature had gifted to her overnight she was excited about the next few days and all that lay ahead.

She groaned and reached for the painkillers to attempt to kill the worsening cramps. She didn't have time to be ill. She had a day out in London to plan. She was a girl at peace with the world, her life and everything in it.

~xXx~

The sound of the alarm clock was comparable to the tolling of the bell.

"_I didn't want this day to come."_

Time to go on auto pilot.

Em's legs moved from the bed to the floor, took her through the room and into the hall. She didn't even seem to be in control of her limbs. Her mind was absent from the situation. It was the only way to cope with it; the day she dreaded with every fibre of her being.

She walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were dead and lifeless where all the crying she had done had finally spent her soul. She had nothing left. As she looked into her own eyes it broke her heart to know the pain hadn't always been there. Not until the middle day, the one that cut the year in two.

It also cut her life in two.

"_Happy birthday, Em,"_ she whispered to herself

**~xXx~**

"I don't see why I have to come in."

"Because it's your job?"

"I've not been officially reinstated yet! After everything we've been through I just really want to spend the day in bed."

"Lazy sod."

"_With you!"_

Kim hesitated.

"Better," she said, "but even so..."

"There'd be pizza," Robin said temptingly and Kim stopped walking, disengaged her arm from his and turned to him.

"There usually is," she pointed out cheekily, "but even so, we should go in." Robin looked highly disappointed and appeared to be about to go it a sulk like a small child. "Oh come _on_, Rob! They've made an _effort_! Even _Gene!"_

Robin hesitated. He pulled a face and gave a deep sigh.

"Alright," he mumbled, "_fine_. Let's go." he grabbed her arm to hold her back as he added, "but I'm warning you, if Gene serves me a plate of fishy biscuits with candles in them not only will we be going to bed but we'll be barricading ourselves in permanently!"

Kim smiled as she took his arm again and continued their walk through the corridor towards CID.

"Remember, _act surprised,"_ she told him.

"I'll scream and crap my pants," he suggested sarcastically.

"You have to go one better than Simon, don't you?"Kim teased.

They finally arrived at CID, attempting to ignore the loud whispers of '_he's coming' _and _'everybody hide!', _finally reaching the door to find that Jake was the only one who had actually bothered to hide.

"_Surpri-_" he cut himself off before he could even finish the world and scowled. "Oh what's the use, bloody bunch of killjoys."

"Happy birthday, Robin," Alex smiled followed by a few mumbles of the same thing from the others. There was a bottle of sparkling wine which was as far as Gene's generosity was prepared to stretch, a plate of plain biscuits and a small cake which looked a bit like someone had sat on one side of it.

"I baked that myself!" Simon boasted.

"With my help," Gene added and Robin's face fell.

"If there's the tiniest hint of tuna in that thing I'm getting my stomach pumped," he declared.

"You did _not_ help!" Simon accused.

"I bloody did."

"When did you help?"

"Gave you the flour!"

"No, you gave me _a_ flower as a bloody practical joke," Simon scowled.

"I'm sure the cake will be _lovely,"_ Robin said, slightly annoyed that the gift has become an excuse to have a row, "can we just cut it already?"

"Bit early for that isn't it?" Gene asked, popping the cork on the wine.

"Oh, late enough to pour a load of booze down your neck but too early for fine baked goods?" Simon pouted.

"The only fine thing about that cake was the fine you got from the woman in the canteen for borrowing her whisk without permission," Gene told him.

Robin stood, looking somewhat put out.

"I've come all the way in for this?" he asked disappointedly.

"Ignore them," Alex told him, heading towards the cake with a big knife, "happy birthday." she cut the first slice and handed it to him on a napkin. "Presents tonight."

"Ooh, presents?" Robin raised an eyebrow.

"But don't get your hopes up too much because I noticed I was missing a few things from my cutlery drawer," Alex sighed, handing the second slice to Kim.

Robin crashed down into a chair with a fitful groan.

"This is going to be worse than the birthday where my parents hired a stoned clown and I puked on the cake," he mumbled.

Out of the corner of her eye Kim caught sight of Em edging into the office, trying to stay out of view. With Kim being away for the last week to keep an eye on Robin she'd been given even less to do. The pencils were so sharp they could have been used in Sonic the Hedgehog as a bed of spikes. Kim grabbed a piece of cake and held it with a napkin.

"Rob, I'll be right back," she said, heading in the direction of Em. She didn't see how the woman could actually, become any paler without actually disappearing into the ether. She looked as though she hadn't slept for days. It wasn't the face of a happy birthday girl, that was for sure. "Hey," she said with a smile and Em jumped.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I was miles away." _Years_ away would have been more accurate, Home had never felt so far away.

Kim held the cake out in her direction.

"It's your birthday too, right?" she asked and Em looked surprised

"Oh," she said, somewhat taken aback, "you remembered?"

Kim nodded and wiggled the cake slice under her nose a little.

"Here," she said, "happy birthday."

"Not according to her file it isn't," Gene's voice boomed from across the room which brought a round of evils from Em.

"So there's a mistake in the file, big whoop," Kim snapped back at him, "here," she put the napkin on the desk beside them, "happy birthday."

Em gave her a thin smile. The cake looked as though it had been made by a bunch of six year-olds being allowed to use the kitchen for the first time, but it was likely to be the only birthday gesture she'd be receiving this year.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She wasn't much of a cake eater but the gesture was appreciated.

"Listen," Kim began quietly, "I know you're only going to turn me down, but..." she sighed, "Rob's birthday do starts at eight. It's in the pub round the corner, the one with the giant anchor over the door?" Em looked at her blankly, "the one with the chalk body outline on the pavement after the anchor fell off and someone was crushed to death?" Em made an apologetic face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know it," she said quietly, "I don't really know this area at all." she flinched slightly. That wasn't _totally_ true, but it wasn't exactly native to her.

"Alright," Kim said quietly, "here," she picked up an extremely sharp pencil and grabbed a spare napkin, "I'll draw you a map."

"That's alright," Em began as Kim got to work. She bit her lip nervously, "I-I appreciate the offer, but -"

Kim looked at her disappointedly.

"You don't go out tonight. Right?" she finished for her. Em looked awkward but nodded.

"Right," she whispered.

Kim nodded.

"I thought so," she said. Slowly she pushed the finished map towards Em. "But if you change your mind," she stood up and took a step away, "no one should spend their birthday alone."

Em looked down as Kim walked away. She stared at the two napkins, one with cake and one with directions. Kim's words rang in her ears and made her shudder. She knew what it was like to feel alone. But even in a strange world with no one she knew, no friends or family around her she didn't feel as alone as she felt fifteen years ago.

_The first time around._

~x~

"How are you feeling?" Robin glanced up as Alex sat beside him. She looked worried and he couldn't blame her. The previous night he hadn't coped very well at all.

"Sorry for freaking out last night," he said sheepishly, "I feel better."

"You do?"

Robin nodded.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Really?"

Robin bit his lip. He decided to respectfully decline to answer that one.

"It's not been an easy week," he said quietly "I just want some time to get my head together."

"Not sure tonight is going to help that," Alex commented, "Gene's got plans to replace your blood with alcohol."

"Great," Robin rolled his eyes but he was smiling. He looked at Alex, grateful for her concern. He was so glad of her friendship. He was used to being the mother hen, looking after others. It did him some good to have someone else looking out for him. "I'm fine, ,Alex, honestly," he promised her, "we'll have nice time tonight, I'll forget about Layton for a while and things will be back to normal soon," he gave a little shrug, "whatever passes for normal."

Alex smiled but she knew there was more to it. There was worry in his eyes that wasn't going away.

"Go home," she said quietly.

"What?"

"You shouldn't be here today."

"But the cake and -"

"Go home, avoid needing urgent medical attention from consuming the result of Simon's cookery technique and get ready for tonight." she nodded toward Kim. "Go on. Both of you."

"Both of us what, Ma'am?" Kim asked curiously.

"We've been given our marching orders," Robin told her.

"Pardon?"

"Go home and relax," Alex told her, "get ready for tonight." She nodded towards the door. "Go on. I'm doing you a favour," she made a face, "the cake tastes like feet."

"Oh _ugh!_" Kim cried, wrinkling up her nose while Robin froze with a slice en route to his mouth. He coughed and laid it down politely.

"Thanks for saving me from that," he said.

"Go on," Alex told them again, "we'll see you tonight."

Kim and Robin glanced at one another. There was a spark of something between them. Relief, excitement, a little bit of happiness -

"Alright," Robin smiled back, "we'll see you later.

"Thanks, Ma'am!" Kim added.

Alex gave them a little wave as she watched them leave. The week had been hard for Robin... for _all_ of them... they all needed a night out and some time to put the last few days behind them.

For others, the hard times was only about to begin.


	20. Chapter 19: Living Without Life

**Chapter 19**

_How do you pinpoint the moment where your life changed forever?_

Was it a word, a sight, a taste, a smell?

For Nicol it was the sound of the doorbell.

A normal Thursday evening. Book open on her knees, pen in her hand, TV on in the background. The theme tune to _The Hello Girls_ ended and the programme began. Although her wonderful week had hit a snag from the pain of mother nature's lovely monthly gift the rest of her day had been pretty damn great. The evening was cloudy but muggy, the heat had been quite oppressive all day. She fanned herself with her book, pulling the neckline of her lime green waistcoat away from her neck. She hoped it would be a little cooler for walking around London the following day.

For half an hour she flicked between Wimbledon and the cheesy drama. She wrote, she planned her travel route, enjoyed her evening and everything about it, right up until that one singular point on time; the moment the doorbell rang.

That second cut her life in two.

~xXx~

"Do you realise what the next big night out we'll be getting ready for is?" Alex asked as she ran a brush through her hair.

Gene pulled a face.

"Fenchurch Rail User's Association annual general meeting?" he suggested.

"No," Alex shot him a dirty look, "more like the annual general meeting of people regretting saying yes when Gene Hunt proposed to them."

"Not many people in that association," Gene commented.

"No, luckily," Alex remarked. She laid down her brush and sprayed herself liberally with perfume. "Hen night," she pointed out.

"Not for me, Missus Woman," Gene mumbled, fastening his cuff-links," stag night for me. Beer and strippers."

"I think your guests might prefer tea and slippers," Alex teased.

"Are you casting doubt on me party instinct?" Gene accuse.

"No, I'm casting doubt on the ability of those in attendance to enjoy strippers of the female variety," Alex pointed out. She got to her feet and turned to Gene. "How do I look?" she asked.

"Like Posh Spice moved to Fenchurch and started a career with CID," Gene remarked.

Alex seemed satisfied with that. She picked up her bag and slung a jacket over her shoulder.

"Come on then," she prompted, "if you wish to replace Robin's blood with alcohol we'd better get started."

Gene grunted as he grabbed his wallet.

"Let the transfusion begin," he mumbled.

~xXx~

Em watched the clock. It was all she seemed to have doe since she arrived. Why did days and dates and times mean so much to her? Why did they hold so much weight? She wished that she could shake them. She'd tried often enough.

The day had gone by, with Em torn between wishing the time would go faster so her birthday would be over and wishing that it would slow down so that the moment would never arrive. She'd tried desperately to find her way out of this strange world before her birthday but it had been impossible. No amount of begging or wishing helped. She'd thought about stepping under a bus or flinging herself from a roof but knowing her luck she'd just wake up in the art college all over again and relive the same two and a half painful weeks time and again.

There was no way out. She was trapped; in her past, in her head, in that day.

"_Fuck,"_ she turned around fiercely and paced the room. It was driving her crazy,_ the silence._ Being alone. The TV wasn't helping. The sound of the _Hello Girls_ theme tune made her retch and almost vomit on the spot. It had been a long time since she'd been so consumed by panic and fear.

She couldn't believe she was about to do it but she had to get out. She couldn't be there. Couldn't be alone.

She stomped up the stairs to the bathroom and stared in the mirror at her pasty complexion. She swore she'd gained an almighty number of wrinkles in the past two weeks. So much for all that _not-aging-at-thesame-rate_ bollocks in that stupid book.

"_None of this is real,"_ she whispered to herself as she grabbed her brush and roughly back-combed her short blonde hair into submission, "it's all in my head so it's _not_ going to hurt me."

But as she faced the darkest reaches of her memory she knew her mind was probably the most dangerous place to be right there and then.

Her hands shook terribly as she quickly attempted to apply make up and make herself look halfway presentable. She wished she had clothes that were suitable for a night out but all she had were Kim's work cast-offs and she'd been reluctant to buy any for herself. She didn't want to do anything to suggest that she had accepted her fate or admitted that she was trapped in that world.

She didn't want to go out but she couldn't be alone.

She had little choice. Following a napkin was the only option she had.

~xXx~

Lid on pen. Book closed. Down the stairs she went. The door opened to familiar faces, familiar only from one night; faces that she wasn't expecting to see again, one of which had left her with a puzzle that she'd finally put out of her mind days ago.

"Hi – do you remember us?"

Yes, of course she did.

Parents appear... family gathered at the door... talking, laughing everything normal. _Phew. _

So what the _fuck_ was that about last week?

It didn't matter now. Bob seemed perfectly normal. _Must have been the alcohol. How stupid was I? I knew it was all in my bloody head. Thank god for that._

"And this is for you!"

Nicol looked at the little box as Marina handed it to her. Well she wasn't going to turn down a _present_, was she? She quickly unfastened the ribbon and opened the little sparkly box to find a monstrosity of epic proportions inside. The tiny little ornament stared back at her. In her heart Nicol knew it was supposed to be an exquisite animal posing on a semi-precious stone, but with the solder that had been misplaced and the badly sculpted animal it just looked like some sort of mutant, genetically-engineered beast that was taking a dump on a purple rock.

_Fake a smile. You can laugh when they've gone._

"Thank you, it's beautiful."

That wasn't the last lie Nicol would have to tell before the end of the night.

"...Nicol, why don't you show them your room?"

_What? I'm not five._

"Wh-why?" Nicol hadn't been told to show someone her room in approximately ten years.

"Why don't you show Bob and Marina your art?"

_Oh, OK. Well that made sense._ She was proud of her portraits, and wasn't adverse to showing them. _Could have done without being put on the spot though._ The previous week out of her mind, she scurried up the stairs to begin a brief guided tour.

_Why is only Bob following?_

_Why are my mother and Marina deep in conversation._

_I'm not happy about this._

He stood just inside of her doorway, where he looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before and whispered the words that showed her all those fears and worries hadn't been born from nothing after all.

"I'd been _really_ hoping I'd see you again."

It actually felt like her heart stopped beating. It also felt like the world stopped turning. For the second time in a week the way his words had been said meant more than the words themselves. She couldn't remember ever feeling so struck with anxiety. The relief she felt at the footsteps on the stairs was immense but the sight of Bob scurrying to the far side of the room somehow disturbed her deeply.

Now there were more people. _Thank god for that. Just be strong. Be calm. Everything is normal Stick with the women and then in minutes from now they'll be gone and you'll never have to see them again._

She barely knew what was happening. The minutes passed in a blur. She gabbled out descriptions of the pretty female celebrities captured in pencil and paint upon her wall, kept the fake smile plastered across her face and begged the minutes to go by until finally came the words she'd been waiting for.

"Well, we'd better be on our way."

_Thank. FUCK._

The sigh of relief she breathed seemed to last forever.

_Yes, goodbye. Goodbye, good riddance, don't let the door hit you on the way out._

Her mother and Marina were closest to the stairs and began to make their way down and as Nicol realised she was left with Bob her relief began to fade. Without a word she hung back, indicating for him to leave first.

_Just go, for god's sake. Walk down the stairs. Please, go down the bloody stairs._

One charming smile. One smooth hand gesture. Two words.

"_After you."_

Nicol's heart sank. Did she have any other option? It didn't feel that way. She just wanted to draw the least amount of attention to the situation as she could because just feet away was her cousin; her own flesh and blood, the woman who bore the children of the man staring at Nicol with hungry eyes.

In that moment a knowledge was born unto her; the answer to a question she'd pondered with a disapproving shake of the head time and again. _Why do people not just do something? Why do they not speak up?_

It was a question with the simplest answer in the world.

_Because they can't._

"Bob honey, you coming?"

She closed her eyes, nausea rising inside her and a terrible sense of fear raging through every limb. _Now what?_

There wasn't much she could do.

Taking a deep breath she stepped forward to begin her descent. There were four stairs in the first part of he staircase before turning a corner to safety; to being visible again, in company. Four stairs was four stairs too many.

On the first he slipped a hand around her torso to squeeze her breast.

On the second, he grasped her buttocks.

But it was the third and forth that haunted her every waking thought as he ran one finger languidly up and down her back.

She _wanted_ to scream but she couldn't.

She _wanted_ to yell but she couldn't.

She _wanted_ to turn around and give him two black eyes, but she _couldn't_.

Well, that wasn't quite true. She _could_ have punched the man who touched her without her permission, but she couldn't punch the father from the life of three children and a wife who shared her bloodline. She couldn't live with that.

How she made it down the stairs without screaming, without vomiting, without crying... she would never know. But it was almost over, in minute they would be gone. They _would_ be gone, wouldn't they?

"We've been invited down the pub for a couple of drinks," Nicol's dad said happily and Nicol's world stopped turning again.

"Oh -" she tried to think of a get-out, _any_ get-out, but none was forthcoming. There was nothing but thin smiles, dread and self-hatred as their visitors waved goodbye and she screamed internally.

_Say something._

_Do something._

_Stop this._

But she couldn't.

She was eighteen years old.

Suddenly she wanted to be dead.

~xXx~

Robin bit his lip and tried to stop himself from smiling as he watched Kim getting ready in an uncharacteristically low-backed top that showed off her unfinished backpiece. He didn't know what was wrong with him but he found that ink difficult to resist. Trying not to make her jump he stood up and shuffled across to her as she finished adjusting the various earrings she was wearing, and stood behind her, bending over and placing his lips gently against the tattooed skin of her back. He kissed her softly and heard her give a needful sigh.

"Rob," she began, "we are in danger of not even _making_ it to your party if you carry on doing that," she told him.

"We can have our _own_ party," he murmured against her and a shiver of excitement travelled through her spine.

"Everyone's expecting us," she said but as his trail of kisses reached her neck she moaned, "Oh _god."_

"Come on," he whispered, "it's too hard to resist."

"_Something's_ too hard," Kim told him cheekily, turning and peering at his crotch which made him blush a little awkwardly, "Rob, we've had _all_ afternoon if you wanted to..." she coughed, "..._raid what's under the bed."_

"Yeah," he began a little coyly, "but I hadn't seen all your tattoos tempting me this afternoon."

That seemed to remind Kim of something and she scurried away momentarily.

"I'll be right back," she said and Robin frowned.

"Tell your tattoos I apologise if I caused them any offence," he said as she re-emerged with a large, hardbacked envelope, "what's this "

"It's your birthday present," Kim said a little breathlessly, "well, _part_ of it." She handed it to him, "open it."

Robin took the envelope and hesitated for a moment, then he opened it up and slipped out a large sheet of sketchpad paper on which a piece of art sat, mixed in with words.

"What's this?" he asked

"I finally worked out what I wanted to do for the centre of my backpiece," Kim whispered.

"I thought it was a present for me," Robin frowned.

"It _is_," Kim whispered, "_look."_

Robin inspected the paper more closely and quite quickly he felt himself shiver.

"_Kim,"_ he whispered.

"I hope you think it's fitting," Kim whispered shakily, more nervous about showing it to Robin than she usually was about her art. He blinked as he felt tears filling his eyes; the lyrics to _Bigger Than Us_ staring him in the face, mixed in with shards of images that only he and Kim would ever understand.

"It haunted us for a year," she whispered of the lyrics, "but in the end, it let us be together. We knew when we heard it -"

"_- The world was close,_" Robin whispered. He swallowed hard, trying desperately to stop a tear from falling onto the paper and smudging her work. "_Kim..."_

"It's what I want," she whispered and found Robin's arms around her. He squeezed her tightly, trying hard not to crease the paper as he whispered to her,

_"It's perfect."_ he swallowed before he added quietly, "you know... there's a big space on _my_ back too. Between my shoulder and my dragon..." he coughed, "If you felt like sharing the design with someone..."

He pulled away and raised an eyebrow at Kim as she smiled tearfully.

"Thought you'd never ask," she whispered.

~xXx~

Em paced up and down as the time drew on._ To go or not to go? _Was she facing it or running away from it? Oh _shit_, she didn't know. She didn't know what to do. Here she was, dressed up as far as she possibly could. More than she _wanted_ to be. It was time to decide one way or the other.

"_And now on UK Gold -"_

"Nope," Em flicked the TV off before she had a chance to hear a theme tune that was only going to make the day harder. This was it, she supposed. _Now or never._

She took a deep breath, swore and finally left the house, forcing herself a step at a time. She didn't want this. She didn't want to go.

But she _had_ to.

She couldn't be alone.

~xXx~

Her heart beat so hard and fast that it damn near left a cavity in her chest. _Hollow._ That's how she felt inside. She must have been on autopilot because her mind was certainly not working well enough to control any of her movements. She couldn't seem to raise her eyes from the ground. They were fixed upon the brown carpet that had been there forever. Why couldn't she look up?

All she could feel were those fingers tracing up and down her back and a strong sense of nausea that swelled inside her. The fear was blocking out the pain. Her head ran over and over the events of the last half an hour. There was no room in her mind for anything else.

She finally forced her head up and stared at herself in the mirror. Did she look any different? Could you tell from her face? If someone looked at her would they know what she'd just been through, or what she was about to face?

Her complexion was pale, but that was from the pain. And anyway, she was _always_ pale. But her eyes were dark, darker than she'd even ever seen them. Quite suddenly circles had spontaneously appeared around them. Did worry manifest that quickly?

_It's all in your mind. It's still all in your mind._

_You misunderstood._

What was to misunderstand? He'd made his intentions blindingly obvious.

_So what are you fucking well doing?_

That was a question she would ask herself eternally.

"Leaving in ten minutes."

_Shit, have to get ready. Have to –_

She stared at herself again. Her fingers ran around the neck of the lime green waistcoat top; the one she'd bought to copy her favourite actress, the one like she'd worn in her favourite show. It was one of her favourite pieces of clothing but suddenly she couldn't have felt more naked if she tried.

She tore open a drawer and scrambled through the clothes. Fabric flew around her. There had to be _something_. _Something_ that made her feel safe; covered, camouflaged, hidden away.

_Just hide the skin. Skin is bad. Skin can be touched. Just hide away. Hide away and you'll be fine._

_No you won't. for fuck's sake tell someone._

_Tell someone._

_Yeah, right. Tell someone. Who exactly? And to what ends? To destroy a whole branch of the family?_

Family. He was part of her fucking _family_.

Not by blood, no, but by marriage and bound by three children.

Twice her age… he was _more_ than _twice_ her _age_.

It was ridiculous. Even if she told someone they would never believe her.

Even _she_ didn't believe herself.

_It's all in my head. He can't have really done those things._

She lied fiercely to herself with denial. This was the kind of thing that happened to other people, or on TV, or in those '_Real Life'_ segments in magazines.

But his words played around and around inside her head, spliced with the sensation of his hands around her breast and the fingers that roamed up and down her back; the sensation that would leave her with a memento for life.

Suddenly, there it was; the long-sleeved, high-necked plain beige top; the one she never wore. It looked like it belonged on a woman 40 years older. Bought for a fancy dress party the year before it had sat at the bottom of her drawer, gathering dust and scooping the prize for the _Item Least Likely To Be Worn_. And yet suddenly it was the most prized piece of clothing she owned.

She pulled her green top over her head, catching a momentary glimpse of her body in the mirror; her flesh, her skin, the vessel that held an anxious soul. It was _her_ body. It had remained untouched, waiting for the right one, whenever Miss Right came along. It was hers to give to whom she chose, to whom she loved and trusted. But he had stolen a touch from her.

_Maybe it was an accident._

_You can't grasp a fucking breast by accident_.

Why was she even trying to justify it? Because that was what she was doing. She was going through every possible alternative explanation. Trying to let him off the hook. Why? _He_ was the one who had touched her against her will. Why was she justifying it?

_Because if I find a way to justify it,_ her mind whispered almost unheard, _then maybe that means it didn't really happen. Maybe that means it wasn't real. _

_And if it wasn't real then I haven't just been touched against my will. _

_And if I can find a way to mentally make it untrue then I won't have to remember for the rest of my life._

She pulled on her beige top, smoothed it out and straightened the sleeves. She looked in the mirror. The skin was gone. Well, _much_ of it was. Taking a brush to her hair she tore at the curls she'd spent an hour carefully putting into it that morning, pulling it as straight and plain as it would go, securing it with spray – as tough and severe as it could be. If only she had time to dye it too. Get rid of the blonde. Go for something plainer. But time was disappearing.

"_Are you ready to go?"_

She stared at her reflection. She had never seen herself so gaunt before, and this time it wasn't from the pain.

"_No,"_ she whispered to herself. She would never be ready to go.

Just before she left the safety of her room she opened her diary where the first half of the page was already filled with her words from earlier, her rambled excitement about location-spotting the following day. With a trembling hand, she wrote.

"_Oh god, they were just here. It wasn't in my head. Shit. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm trapped in one of my own fucking books. Please let this be alright."_

She closed her diary around the pen and closed the book on her bed, her chapter unfinished.

She left her room.

Ultimately, she left more than that behind.


	21. Chapter 20: Tomorrow I'll be Gone

_**A/N: Warning: dark themes**_

**Chapter 20**

"_Act natural,"_ Kim hissed as they rolled into the pub an hour late and immediately found Gene breathign down their necks.

"Eight o clock, _you_ said!" he barked.

"We're sorry," Kim cringed.

"Very, very sorry," Robin added.

"People have been buying you drinks for the last hour," Gene barked, "I've had to drink six pints on your behalf!"

Kim scowled.

"Very thoughtful of you," she mumbled as Gene burped. _"Rude."_

"Says the woman who caused an earthquake the last time she belched in polite company," Gene told her before he turned around to see of there were any more pints lined up for the birthday boy that he could down before Robin found them.

"_Cheeky bloody arsehole!_" Kim fumed, her face bright red.

"Ignore him," Rbin advised her, "he's just jealous."

"Of what?" Kim scowled and Robin gulped.

"Your ladylike manner and ability to use the correct etiquette at all times?" he squeaked.

"Think yourself lucky it's your birthday," Kim scolded, "or the remainder of your pints would be going over your head instead of down your neck!" she noticed a woman sitting alone at the bar. "Oh, she made it."

"Who did?"

"Em," Kim explained, "the weird one. It's her birthday too."

"Oh right," Robin nodded, "doesn't look like she's having a very happy one."

Kim sighed. It really didn't.

"I suppose I'll see if I can make it happier" she said quietly and walked towards her, calling back over her shoulder, "hey, save one of those pints for me!"

~xXx~

Nicol had a theory. In her theory, fate was a man with a notebook and a pen who went around scripting all the horrid little ironies in a person's life. He had a nasty sense of timing and lined up horrid coincidences around every corner. If Nicol's theory was correct then the little guy was about to have the busiest night of his life.

_I will be OK. It will all be OK. It will be alright as long as she's there. My cousin. He can't do anything then. He wouldn't dare._

Where _was_ she?

_There's no sign of her. Where the hell is she?_

_No, she can't have a migraine. She was fine an hour ago. No, his is stupid. This is wrong._

_Plan B, sit as far away from him as possible._

_...This is good. This is OK. I am safe over here. Far end of the table. That's fine._

_You can't touch me. I am safe._

I wish you'd take your eyes away from me though.

She bit her lip as Bob got to his feet to buy a round.

"Red wine?" he asked pointedly with _that_ smile, that wretched, horrible smile and she shook her head. Alcohol didn't do much for her and never had, but she wanted _him_ to know she was in possession of a perfectly clear head.

"Pepsi," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "thanks."

She shuddered inside. The look he gave her as he glanced back made her want to wash herself clean but no soap would ever be able to remove the layers of wretchedness that his eyes laid upon her, just as his fingers had an hour before.

~xXx~

The finger against her back made Em jump and her heart pound in shock.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kim sounded more shocked than _Em_ had been.

"I told you before not to do that," Em blurted, not even sure if she'd said it out loud to Kim or if she'd only said it in her head.

"I'm sorry," Kim said again, torn between yelling at Em for snapping at her or feeling guilty for making her jump, "I was looking at the tattoo." She pointed to Em's back, "I could see it through the white shirt." Em seemed uncomfortable. "It... it looks like writing..." Kim continued.

Em nodded, her eyes closed.

"Song lyrics," she whispered.

"Oh," Kim smiled, albeit awkwardly, "Yeah, I decided on lyrics to go with my design. Thanks for your help."

Em stared at her empty glass.

"Only useful thing I've done since I got her," she whispered.

Kim wasn't sure what to say. She felt like she was losing the battle with Em. She nodded to the glass.

"Can I get you another one of those?" She asked and Em shook her head.

"No thank you," she whispered.

"It _is_ your birthday too," Kim pointed out, "let me at least buy you a drink."

Em swallowed.

"I'm not feeling well," she whispered, her eyes on the clock, "I think I might go home."

"One drink."

Em hesitated.

"I don't like scotch," she said eventually.

"We _do_ drink _other_ things sometimes, you know," Kim told her.

Em bit her lip.

"I'll have a brandy, please," she whispered.

"Brandy," Kim repeated, perking up, "Ahh, Rob will be happy to hear that, finally he's not the only brandy drinker in Fenchurch East. Rob!" she called out to him, raising her hand to get his attention, "hey, Rob!"

"It's OK," Em said quickly, "I think I'll just go."

Kim blinked.

"You were about to have a drink," she reminded her.

"I really don't feel well," Em whispered as her stomach churned with fear and distress. She swallowed and tried to take in a deep breath. Her head was spinning. The _world_ was spinning, out of control.

"Actually..." Kim hesitated, "actually you really _don't_ look well."

Em closed her eyes and nodded, her pulse ringing in her head.

"I need to go," she whispered, but as she stood up it felt as though the stress and devastation all crushed her in one go and she couldn't make it that far. "I," she tried to form words but she wasn't sure whether her mouth was complying, "I need the loo before I go," she pressed her fingers to her mouth as though she was about to be sick at any moment, "_excuse me,_" she barely breathed as she stumbled and scrambled her way to the toilets, leaving a confused and worried Kim in her wake.

"What?" Robin arrived beside her, "did you call me, Kim?" but Kim seemed in a world of her own. "Kim?"

Kim glanced at him.

"I think I'm making a mess of this, Robin," she said quietly.

"Of what?"

"_This_. This _world_. My job." she closed her eyes. "I don't think I'm doing it right."

Robin looked at her sympathetically.

"I don;t think there is a '_right_' way, Kim," he said quietly.

"Well I've found the _wrong_ way," she whispered. She felt her heart sinking. Perhaps Em was simply beyond her help.

~xXx~

As time moved on, the rock of anxiety in her stomach just grew bigger and bigger

_Eyes off me, eyes OFF me. Stop it. I hate this, I hate you. I hate everything. What the fuck do I do? Got to stay here. Stay where I'm safe._

And then it happened. The most innocuous sentence in the history of conversation which led to the downturn of the night.

"...So I hear you're going to London tomorrow?"

Nicol smiled weakly.

"Yes," she said quietly, "if I'm up to it." The pain in her abdomen was reaching a level she found hard to bear. She was desperate to go to the toilet to freshen up a little but she didn't dare. Couldn't risk it. _Couldn't._

Bob's grin looked the Cheshire Cat appearing on his branch.

"I've got a friend who worked on the designs for some of those buildings. At Canary Wharf."

Th ultimate fucking insult. That was her favourite building in the world, now it was eternally connected with the night. But the worst was still to come.

The man with his little notebook of fate and with his impeccable sense of timing he wrote his most ingenious line yet as her mother's eyes lit up and she spoke the words that left Nicol trembling.

"Oh! Nicol _loves_ Canary Wharf! Here," she got to her feet, "swap places with me. Come and sit next to Bob, you can talk about it together!"

Time manipulation _had_ to be possible. It _had_ to be real because there is no other way to explain the speed to which time slowed.

She shook as she got to her feet. Every step seemed to take twice as long as usual as she moved towards hell.

_It's all my fault. I deserve this._

_I deserve this for wearing the mini-dress last week. I deserve this for wearing make-up last week. I deserve this for not speaking up, not fighting back._

_It's happening because it's all my fault._

Her backside made contact with the chair and his eyes peered down her non-existent cleavage.

"Well well," he smiled.

Under the table his hand wandered.

It didn't seem to want to leave.

~xXx~

"Simon... _Si!_" Robin ran after Simon as he headed toward the bar, "you're late," he called and Simon glanced around, looking hot and sweaty.

"Sorry," he said, "I had a slight _wrapping_ accident. Here," he handed Robin a half mauled present and Robin took it gingerly.

"Er,m... _thank you?_" he said," what happened to it? Did you get hungry on the way?"

"No, I got chased by a flock of rabid squirrels," Simon said crossly, which Robin took for sarcasm at first but to his shock and amusement Simon was being honest, "I think they took exception to my bloody costume! Chased me half way down the street before one jumped on me from a tree and landed over my eyes like a furry fucking _face_ mask!" he glared as Robin started sniggering. "I'm glad _you_ think it's funny!" he snapped, _"three times_ I had to re-wrap this sodding present!"

"Doesn't look like you did a very good job of it," Robin blurted and found the gift thrust at him by an angry Simon.

"_Here_," he mumbled "_take_ it. I hope you choke on it!"

"Oh," Robin frowned, "thanks." he stared at Simon, his head tilted to one side. "why are you wearing that?"

"What?" Simon asked.

"The _jumper_," Robin said distastefully. He saw Simon turning red. "It's too hot for jumpers!"

"No law against it," Simon frowned.

"There _should_ be," Robin put down his gift. "Come on, Simon, take it off."

"No," Simon clutched his jumper.

"Why not?" Robin cried, "come on, Simon, I don't want you passing out from _heat_stroke!" he hesitated and frowned. "_Please_ don;t tell me this is still about your bloody nipples," he said. When Simon's expression darkened Robin rolled his eyes. "Oh for _fuck's_ sake, Si, why did you have them _done_ then?"

"i didn't think everyone would be able to _see_ them," Simon cried, "but they show through my _shirt!"_

"They don't!"

"They _do!"_

Robin rolled his eyes.

"OK, they _barely_ show," he said, "and even if they _do_, who cares?"

"_I care!"_

"If you were so ashamed then why have you still got them in?"

Simon froze. Robin had a good point. He felt himself turning a deeper shade of red as he muttered;

"Maybe _someone_ will like them. One day. If I ever find someone who looks beyond the jumper."

Robin rolled his eyes.

"Stop it," he said, "I'm not letting you get melancholy on my birthday. Take it off."

"_What?"_

"The bloody _jumper!"_

Simon and Robin attempted to stare one another down. Simon didn't want to give up his Noel Edmonds monstrosity but it was boiling and he really did feel a bit faint. Finally Robin's unfaltering stare got the better of him and with a groan and an angry mumble he took it off and threw it over the back of a chair.

"_There,_" he hissed, "my nipples, on display for all and sundry to see. You happy?"

Robin smirked just a little bit.

"Deliriously," he said

~xXx~

Time passing.

Touches lengthening.

Each one more daring than the last

No one noticed.

Why _would_ they?

Why would anyone even think to look?

_Please help me? Someone please stop this._

_No way out, no way out._

_Pain growing. Bleeding worsening. Such a mess. Need to clean up, for fuck's sake life, just fucking help me._

Finally her mother got to her feet and mumbled that she needed the toilet. _Oh, thank god, Safety in numbers._

"I'll go with you."

_Quick, got to hurry, got to rush._

_Into stall, lock door._

"Bob's fun, isn't he?"

_I want to die. Someone help me._

"Yeah." Voice so flat. Words so empty.

"You're very quiet,"

Yes, Yes I am. I am very, very quiet Doesn't that tell you something?

"I'm not feeling well."

_Fuck, speak up! Just tell her! _

_But -_

_...what the hell would she say? I know exactly what she would say. 'Don't be stupid.'._

_Or worse._

_What if she thought I was lying? I couldn't bear that. It would break my heart._

"I'll see you back at the table."

_No! -_

"_Wait! I-"_

She desperately wanted to beg her not to go but over the sound of the flushing toilet her mother didn't hear her, and she was still in _such_ a mess. She tried to clean up but it took so long. _Stupid fucking body, stupid fucking biology. Enough. Enough!_

_Finally done. Flush. Open door. _

_Wash hands. Keep washing._ The blood might have gone but she didn't feel clean.

_Have to leave. Have to go back. Want to hide forever. But I can't._

She opened the door.

_That smile; waiting. _

_Eyes peering._

_No one there?_

_Clearly not._

_A push. _

_Silence. Can't speak. No words. Not even a scream._

_This is why so many people don't scream. _

_**Because they can't.**_

A face too close, lips forcing a kiss she didn't want, stubble scraping against tender flesh.

_Stop, please, stop_

_These words are doing no good when they're only in my head._

_Why won't they come out in sound?_

Into the stall.

A hard wall and a spine don't make great bedfellows.

_Stop. STOP._

Words whispered. Words never to be forgotten. Not as long as she lived, however long _that_ was going to be.

_Down come the trousers. _

And then the blood.

"Fuck!"

_Shit, and now anger._

_Anger over blood._

_Now he cant even get what he wants so _

_I'm going to be punished._

_I deserve to be punished. _

The pain. Fingers. Twisting. Jamming. _Forcing_.

_Am I even whimpering? My voicebox has frozen._

Another swearword. Tissue paper, loads of it. Wiping, wiping, wiping hand.

Stealthy exit, into the gents.

_Clean up operation in progress._

And a girl was left to clean herself again, pull up her trousers and hold on to the last dregs of strength that had been forced out of her.

_Engage autopilot._

Life over.

~xXx~

Em felt woozy as she stumbled into the toilets, grasping at thievery she could along the way to keep her on her feet – the doorway, the sink, the stalls. She forced herself into one of the cubicles, put down the lid of the toilet and sat upon it, gasping for breath. Her chest felt too tight. It wouldn't take in all the oxygen she needed. Her limbs felt heavy and she wanted to scream until the world around her shattered and let her back through to her _own_ world and her own _life_, but it wasn't to be.

Why did she come here? Why to the fucking _toilets?_ Why to the pub at _all? _She cried and she screamed, hiding away as her head spun and the past held her down and took all the life left within her.

She had to get out, she needed air, she needed to escape as her eyes focused on her watch and she realised the moment was drawing near. She had never felt such an intense need to escape before. That's what she had to do.

She pulled herself to her feet and unlocked the cubicle door but her head was spinning faster and whispers of words she'd worked so hard to bury fell upon her ears as though the words were spoken right beside her. A ghostly touch left her reeling from memories too painful to bear and she dropped to the ground, her body still and her mind swirling with vicious memories that would not leave her be.

~xXx~

"Hey," Kim touched Alex's arm and she turned around, "sorry to bother you, ma'am but have you seen Em?"

"The arty girl?" Alex shook her head, "no, sorry, why?"

"She was here a minute ago and then she was taken ill," Kim, looked around, "she said she needed the toilet but hasn't come back since."

"Maybe she's jumped out of a window?" Alex commented unhelpfully, remembering the last time she failed to leave the toilets in a pub.

"I'm getting worried, Ma;'am," Kim said quietly, "I don't know why, something doesn't feel right."

She departed before Alex could respond and raced up to Robin instead.

"Simon, really, you can barely see them..." he was saying but Kim's arrival stopped his conversation.

"Rob, have you seen Em?" she asked breathlessly.

"No, why?"

"You're closer to the toilets, did you see her leave?"

"I didn't even see her go in."

"_Christ almighty!"_

There was a sudden pop, followed by a humongous rushing sound and a lot of swearing in an angry northern voice and the entire pub turned to see a very wet, _very_ angry Gene who had become walking, talking lager.

"_Gene!"_ Alex's voice was full of alarm as she ran to him, "what _happened?_"

A fountain of beer was still gushing behind the bar, just starting to slow down as Gene tried to shake himself off like a wet dog.

"_Unexpected golden bloody shower!" _Gene cried furiously as the barman flapped about and apologised time and again.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, the beer tap must have been faulty -"

"Oh really?" Gene turned around with anger in his eyes, "and what gave it away? The fact that yer pub's turned into a flipping _water_ park for _alcoholics?!"_ Beside him Terry and Bammo were standing, tilting back their heads, mouths open in the hope of catching the remainder of the booze. "I rest my case!"

"Gene, you're _soaked_," Alex cried.

"Thanks for the observation, Drake!" Gene cried, pulling his shirt off over his head without unfastening the buttons.

"Oh dear god no, not your hairy chest," Kim covered her eyes in distress.

"You can't sit around here with your shirt off all night!" Alex told him, slightly concerned that their bed-breaking activities the night before might be revealed if anyone were to notice the trail of love-bites across his back, "you'll have to go home and get showered and changed!"

Gene wrung out his hair into a glass.

"Not until I've had enough apology booze to sink the Titanic," he said crossly.

"You can have a beer on the house," the Barman offered.

"I've had a houseful o'beer," Gene countered, "scotch, please."

I'm not authorised to offer free spirits," the barman said apologetically.

"Just as well _I'm_ a bloody free spirit then," Gene huffed, parking his backside down on the stool, "I'm sitting here until I get me drink."

"We have a _no-shirt, no-service_ policy," the barman added.

"Funnily enough I have a _no-scotch, no-teeth_ policy," Gene threatened.

"Sorry," the barman said, "You need to put your shirt back on if you want to say."

"You just gave me a bloody golden _shower_!" Gene cried.

"I'm not sure you know what that phrase means," Robin cringed, hiding his face.

"I'm not putting me shirt back on," Gene huffed.

"Then you'll have to wear something else," the barman told him.

Simon gasped and jumped several inches in the air.

"Ooh! I know _just_ the thing," he said excitedly, his feet paddling against thin air like a computer game character before he ran to his table and scurried back a moment later clinging to a woollen monstrosity.

Gene took one look at the jumper and swallowed.

"_No."_

Simon smiled.

"Yes."

"Not a bloody chance in hell."

"It's that or the squirrel suit," Simon threatened.

"Don't be an idiot, Gene, just put the jumper on," Alex sighed.

"I'm sorry, Bolly?" Gene cried, "for those of us with an ounce of taste putting the jumper on is the complete _opposite_ of not being an idio-_mmmmpffff,"_ he found his mouth fill of wool as Simon slammed the jumper over his head and pulled it down until his head popped through the neck hole.

Two very angry eyes fixed upon Simon.

Two very scared eyes stared back at Gene.

"A-at least you won't get cold," Simon gulped.

Gene got to his feet and slowly cracked his knuckles as he set upon Simon a stare that devoured him in a fit of fury.

"You're right, Shoebury," he hissed, "I won't be cold. Because I'll be attending the burning of a body at the funeral of a dead _Shoebury!"_

Alex slapped her forehead and gave a deep groan as Gene took off after a terrified Simon and they chased around the pub.

"It's like Benny Hill came back from the grave," she sighed.

Kim shook her head.

"Poor Simon," she said, "he took his life in his hands with that." She tapped Robin on the arm, "Rob, there's still no sign of her."

"Who?"

"_Em."_

Robin shrugged a little. He didn't really know anything about her.

"She probably left while we were all laughing at Gene," he pointed out.

"I don't know, Rob," Kim felt a shudder travel through her bones, "I've just got a bad feeling about this." she swallowed, feeling strangely anxious, "a _really_ bad feeling." she found her legs taking her in the direction of the toilets. She didn't know what it was but something didn't feel right. Her stomach churned as she pushed past the revellers and the drinkers and opened the door of the toilets. "_Hello?_" she called out, "_Em?"_

There were two women applying lipstick at the mirror and one cubicle door was closed but unlocked.

"_Em?"_ she knelt down to see if Em was still inside it and found hands, feet and hair in view. "Fuck!" she tried to push the toilet door a little but Em's motionless body blocked it's path. "_Get some help,_" she barked to the women at the mirror who seemed startled and fled in an instant. Gently Kim carried on pushing the door until Em's head moved enough for her to slide inside and kneel down beside her. "_Em?"_ she tapped her cheek. Em's skin felt cold and clammy. "Em, it's alright," she tried to lift her head but in the confined space it was difficult, "Em, it's OK," she saw the woman's lips moving slightly, "it's alright, you're OK -"

"What's going on?" the sound of Alex's voice came as a huge relief to Kim as she called out,

"_Ma'am, it's Em... she's collapsed."_ There was a murmur from the fallen woman and her brow creased with distress as she very slowly began to rouse. "Hey," Kim stared at her, trying to work out what she was trying to say.

"_I was Em tonight," _she murmured.

"What?" Kim leaned a little closer.

"_I was Em tonight," _she repeated, the words making no more sense the second time around.

"Em, I don't understand," Kim said quietly. She looked up at Alex's face as she peered around the door. "Ma'am, I need to get her out of here."

"Alrifght," Alex said quickly, "close the door and help her stand first, we'll take it from there.

Kim looked down at Em again.

"Can you stand?" she asked softly, but Em was barely conscious. Kim sighed and took a deep breath. "Right," she whispered, "let's do this. "

With a sigh, Kim got herself into a better position by squatting on the floor, then slid her hands beneath Em's arms and tried to lift her. A smidgen of consciousness returned to Em and she tried to scramble her feet into place for Kim to help her up. "That's it," Kim told her, "Keep going."

Soon Alex was able to open the door and she and Kim took an arm each. Em's eyes were open but they were rolling and she seemed delirious and desperate.

"What happened?" Alex asked.

"I've no idea , Ma'am," Kim told her.

"Does she need Gene's smelling salts?" Alex wondered.

Kim didn't think that was a good idea.

"Not now, they probably smell of lager," she said. She shook her head. "Get her out to my car, ma'am, I'll take her back to her home." She shuddered at the idea of going back there herself but she couldn't think what else to do.

"Should we take her to hospital?" Alex asked but Kim shook her head.

"We've all been there," she whispered, remembering times from years ago when she'd found herself collapsing under the strain of her body being in a different world.

Alex understood only too well.

"Car it is," she whispered.

Em's head rolled and her mind churned as the two women took her outside and laid her across the back seat of the fiat.

"Just don't mention the stain, Ma'am," she heard Kim hiss as the door slammed.

Em's mind was stricken with agony and her body had taken the brunt of it, but a little was beginning to fade as the hour passed and her birthday began to head to a close.

"_I was Em tonight,"_ she whispered one last time before Kim jumped in the driver's seat and took her away.

It was true. She _had_. Just as she had been every night and every day for the past fifteen years.

.~xXx~

Nicol had never understood the meaning of loneliness until that night.

All the times in her life that she'd been a misfit, left out at school, bullied, struggled to find like minds she'd thought that she was lonely, but no.

Loneliness was the ten minute walk home with _people who did not know._

People who didn't know, and who she couldn't tell.

Her thoughts churned violently as she grasped her arms, rubbing them, her blood running cold. Her legs trembled with every step as she paced into the night, hoping that the dark sky would mask her tears.

She _knew_ now. She knew absolutely. She knew why people didn't tell.

Why they couldn't.

Why _she_ couldn't.

The terrible pain throbbing between her legs, the knot of devastation tightened in her chest and the need to scrub her body clean all fought for supremacy in a night where she'd lost so much; her happiness, her sense of security, her innocence.

She couldn't be sure her life wasn't about to join the list.

X

She barely recalled the moments that passed after she found herself back home. She had to just stay strong, to get through each and every minute until she could slip away to bed and then she could collapse. She had to pretend. She had to wear a mask, just as she had been all night, but it was starting to crumble. The pain was too much; mentally, physically, emotionally. She wanted to rip herself apart limb by limb because even the pain of that would be better than the pain inside her head as it played back a frame-by-frame replay of every agonising moment.

Soap and water had never had such little meaning, so little effect.

The blood, so much of it everywhere, reminding her, just as it surely always would, every damn time.

The sound of his voice played through her mind again and again, the accent that would trigger panic attacks and anxiety. The name she couldn't bear to hear, the face that wouldn't leave her mind's eye no matter how hard she fought against it.

The screams that she couldn't release, lest anyone know the truth.

To bed.

A violent night.

She burned all night long, fevers racking her body, nails clawing at her skin, head striking the wall, wanting nothing more than for sleep to come and take her away, then never to let her go.

In those fevered, anguished moments a girl has a choice to make;

To live on and bear the burden forever

Or to rid herself of the pain, and with it her life.

And in those fevered moments, one decision changed everything.

**~xXx~ To Be Continued ~xXx~**

_**A/N: This was the last full chapter of this story – the epilogue will be up tomorrow and the story arc will continue beyond it. Thank you to the people who have read and supported me through this story, and also thank you for the birthday wishes :)**_


	22. Epilogue: And The Secret's Safe With Me

**Epilogue**

The bright morning sunshine pouring through the open curtains drew Em's heavy eyelids open and left _her_ lying awake at an ungodly hour. Something about the air felt clearer. It was easier to breathe. She closed her eyes again and took in a deep breath, relishing the feeling of relief that came with knowing the day had passed. It was back in its box for another year. She knew it would take a few days to feel completely normal again, it always did, always would but the sensation of relief that came from knowing she had made it through another birthday and came out of the other side still fighting filled her with a sense of freedom that she relished with every breath she drew into her lungs.

She rolled over and stared at the calendar. The date no longer taunted her, and now her one aspiration was to get home before much more of the month had a chance to pass by. After a few moments she slowly sat up, surprised to find herself fully clothed, still wearing the same semi-smart shirt she'd donned the night before. That was weird. She didn't remember going to bed in her clothes. Actually, she didn't remember going to bed at _all_. Everything from sitting at the bar onwards was a bit of a mystery. She remembered feeling fuzzy in the head and struggling to breathe. Then she only remembered the tweeting of a bird outside of the window and waking up to a new day.

"_How did I get here?" _she murmured.

She didn't really recall a lot of the night before, nor the day, nor much of the past two and a half weeks, but that was situation normal. She was in recovery mode. Her memory knew what it had to do. Her birthday had passed; now the dark days were sent to the back of her mind so she could survive another year.

Her alarm sprang to life; the strains of a Bowie song prickling her spine with memories that she wasn't quite ready to allow back into her head. That was her cue to get up, she supposed.

She was still lost and alone but she was _alive_ and now she had a new focus. She'd survived a dark day, now she had to survive in a _different_ way. Out there somewhere her body was trying to cling onto life. Her soul had to do the same. And she'd already survived enough to know that she was going to pull through.

Em was a survivor.

She tiptoed to the window to watch the world waking up around her.

"_Bring it on,"_ she whispered.

~xXx~

_#... let's dance_

_Put on your red shoes and dance the blues...#_

The sound of the alarm dragged Nicol from her sleep as her eyes flew open. Her heart jolted as though in fear and she immediately felt a strange cloud hanging over her. There was a dark feeling in her chest, as though something terrible balanced on the edge of her thoughts but she couldn't quite recall it. That feeling nagged away at her, gnawed at her nerves, made her feel anxious and worried, but whatever it was she didn't seem privy to it.

She felt strange, almost as though she was hungover but she'd never had a hangover in her life. Her head was muzzy as though filled with cotton wool where he thoughts should be. She hadn't even been _drinking_, for all the good alcohol ever did. She was on painkillers anyway, so she couldn't. Speaking of which -

She grimaced as she clutched her abdomen and survived another round of cramps. It was strange; in one way they seemed to be so much worse than usual and there was pain where she didn't usually experience it, but at the same time the sensation barely seemed to register. She felt numb; physically, mentally, emotionally numb.

It was a weird sensation indeed. She shook her head. She must just be tired. Had she had a late night? She couldn't really remember. She shook herself and climbed out of bed. There was no time to ponder it, she had a day out to get ready for and she still had lots to do, not least of which was to have a shower. She felt so hot and sweaty, as though she'd been baking between the sheets. Beyond that she felt strangely dirty and tainted; it was a horrid sensation that made her shudder as she flicked off the radio and stopped Bowie singing away.

What a day she had ahead – a day she'd been looking forward to for weeks. She could barely wait to -

_Actually, no._ She stopped on the spot and hung her head a little. Something didn't feel right. She had a big day ahead and had been so excited the day before but suddenly her enthusiasm was all but gone. She shook her head. What the hell was _wrong_ with her? She'd wanted to go for so _long_. Why was she now feeling so apathetic?

She stared at herself in the mirror and there was nothing behind her eyes.

"_I must be tired," _she whispered. A shower and some breakfast would soon sort her out and then she'd be on her way.

She moved slowly toward the bathroom; a block over her mind, a block over her heart, a block over her smile.

Her body went through the motions. Her soul was another matter.

~xXx~

Years away.

Miles away.

A world away.

Another time, another place, in the land of the living a young woman sat in turmoil; the sheets sodden with sweat, her body shaking with a pain she didn't know how to bear. How could she get through a day where she had to pretend everything was normal? That everything was OK? That her life hadn't been shattered into pieces? She could barely breathe. Her eyes were dark and hollow, her skin as pale as the sheet she had soaked with the fevers she couldn't shake.

She didn't know how she was going to survive, nor did she even want to.

The song on the radio ended. Bowie finished dancing and Madonna began to play.

_#...I have a tale to tell  
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well  
I was not ready for the fall  
Too blind to see the writing on the wall  
A man can tell a thousand lies  
Ive learned my lesson well  
Hope I live to tell  
The secret I have learned, till then  
It will burn inside of me...#_

The words she sang were the ones that made the girl's heart freeze up. They captured everything. They said what she couldn't say in her own words. They drew from her tears and screams and they would do the same every damn day of that summer as she listened to that track on repeat, just trying to survive.

She was a survivor because she _had_ to be. What was the alternative?

~xXx~

The body lay in the mud and grass between myriad trees on a muggy friday morning. The soul was gone and the flesh all that remained of a person destroyed. The body was sullied, the soul set free.

On that dark night, a life had come to an end.

There _was_ an alternative to survival after all.

~xXx~

"This is how we should have spent yesterday."

"_Hmmm,_" Kim sighed sleepily, leaning against Robin as they lay in bed.

"Why did you make me go and eat Simon's feet-cake?" Robin asked.

"They _made_ an _effort_," Kim sighed, "they wanted to see you on your birthday."

"Yeah, and then sent me home again!"

"Urgh," Kim groaned as she turned around and looked at him properly, "can't win with you, can we?!"

"I'm just saying the day would have been so much better if we'd stayed right here," Robin told her.

"Well we're staying right here _today_, aren't we?" Kim pointed out.

"Too right we are," Robin sighed, closing his eyes and edging a little closer.

After the trauma of the past week Robin had been given a day's compassionate leave before his suspension was officially over and Kim had threatened several arse piercings until Gene allowed her the day off too. They both needed the day to recover from Robin's party the night before – not from consuming too much alcohol but from their sides aching too much from laughing at the sight of Gene wearing- then getting stuck in – a jumper of mass destruction.

"Is Simon still in the hospital?" Robin asked.

"I think they released him after they extracted the bottle," Kim sighed sleepily.

"_Ouch,"_ Robin cringed.

Kim propped herself up on one arm and looked at Robin.

"So what do you want to do today?" she asked.

"Bed," said Robin.

"Apart from bed."

"More bed."

Kim sighed and tried not to laugh.

"What about breakfast?" she asked.

"Breakfast in bed."

"Deal." They slowly hauled themselves out of bed and walked to the kitchen where Robin decided to make scrambled eggs while Kim started making the coffee.

"I do have to go out briefly," she apologised.

"Nope," Robin refused to acknowledge that.

"I need to talk to Alex," Kim explained, "wants a new tattoo, she said." She shrugged "something about the wedding." She turned back to Robin who was staring at the tattoo design Kim had handed him the day before. It was pinned to the noticeboard and at the mention of the tattoo it brought his attention back to the design.

"Kim," he said quietly, "you know what I was saying about bed...?"

Kim glanced back.

"Hmm?" she said

Robin felt his lip waver as he stared at the lyrics, the ones that so many times had signified that the world was calling for them, the words that had foreseen an end to their relationship for so many months, but the ones that finally allowed them to be together again. He recalled Kim's concern at Em's condition the night before; the fragility of the world and existence, how crossing the line could cause so much pain and devastation. He caught Kim's hand and squeezed it tightly, so grateful for their life together. He never took it for granted, not for a moment.

"How about we make today last forever?" he suggested.

His eyes skipped to the tattoo, then back to Kim and he saw a smile light up her face. She nodded and squeezed his hand in return.

"I think," she whispered, "that is the best possible way to spend the day."

~xXx~

Alex looked at the calendar on Gene's wall with a smile on her face. The day was drawing closer and soon it would be upon them. There had been so many times it seemed they would never get that far. She thought about how it would feel to actually be married again after all those years, and to Gene after being together for such a long time.

"So are you all sorted?" Gene asked and she looked a him curiously.

"In what way sorted?" she frowned.

"For the big day," Gene explained, "_Something old, something stolen, something to throw at Shoebury..."_

"I'm not sure that's the traditional version," Alex rolled her eyes. She sat on the edge of Gene's desk. "Well," she began, "I suppose my _dress_ is my something new, but that's not uncommon..."

Gene could see from the look on her face that Alex intended to answer the question in full and he started to regret asking.

"You can give me a simple yes or no," he told her.

"I'm borrowing a necklace from Shaz," Alex continued, "now, something old..."

Gene began to scowl.

"You didn't have to look at _me_ when you said that!" he accused and Alex smiled cheekily.

"Relax, Gene," she sighed, "I have a pair of antique earrings. She coughed and scuffed her toe against the floor. "And Kim's sorting out my something blue."

Gene scowled so hard his eyebrows almost knitted together.

"is she now?" he growled.

Alex tried not to smirk.

"You have an over-active imagination, Gene," she told him, "it's perfectly innocent." She crossed her legs and gave a contented sigh. "I can't believe I've been here for almost two decades," she said, "it's taken us a while to get off our backsides, hasn't it?"

Gene leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"This isn't a good time to start talking about your backside, Bolly," he said, "not while I'm thinking about honeymoon undies."

"Why did it take us this long?" Alex asked, a little more sombrely.

Gene stared at her. He knew why it had taken them so long. He remembered the years of worrying about Alex disappearing at any time, knowing her body was thriving in another world. He remembered the agony of being apart when she awoke back home. He remembered the pain of their separation after Alex had suffered a terrible trauma at the hands of Keats at his most crazed. He didn't want to think about the reasons for not doing it sooner. He just wanted to concentrate on the future that was about to open up to them, the new phase about to begin.

"It's the _next_ two decades I'm thinking about," he told her "and then some."

The wedding heralded a new era for Alex and Gene, as in fact it did for them all. There had been dark days and oddities, interlopers, evil and upsets in whatever passed for normality in the world they inhabited. It was time to stop asking questions and to focus on what they knew, on what stayed solid.

Their relationship.

Madonna's lyrics couldn't have been less appropriate for the situation as the radio played away in the corner.

_# ...If I ran away, I'd never have the strength  
To go very far  
How would they hear the beating of my heart  
Will it grow cold  
The secret that I hide, will I grow old  
How will they hear  
When will they learn  
How will they know?... #_

"That's enough of _that_ bollocks," he said, giving the radio a thump. The station changed and something far more upbeat and uplifting started. _Talking Head's_ lyrics fitted the situation _so_ much better.

_# ...You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife  
You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? … #_

Gene knew very well how he'd gotten there, _thank you very much. _It had taken a very long time, a hell of a lot of heartache and a shitload of hard work but there were brighter days on the horizon.

"Enjoy yer last weeks of freedom, Bols," he told her, "you're stuck with me now."

"I've already got a life sentence," Alex commented cheekily.

"That sounds like a cue to get out the scotch," Gene commented.

"Do you need an excuse?" Alex smiled.

She was right, but it was still good to have one, _always_ good to have one. Gene placed a couple of glasses on the desk and filled them quickly. He lifted his and Alex copied his gesture. As they clinked them in the air and drank to one another they felt a surge of excitement at the thought of the days that lay ahead.

The summer had just begun and so had a whole new phase of their lives. They were going to live every day as though it was their last.

Because they never knew when that might end up being true.

**~xXx~ The End ~xXx~**

_**A/N: Sitting here in the tranquillity of 3rd July it feels like this fic has passed in a complete blur. I cannot at this point describe the intensity of not just the last 2 and a half weeks but the months of trying to keep to a planned schedule to update in real time. I feel like I've finished a marathon. But of course there are many laps of the track still to go because the next fic – albeit with a far, far more relaxed update schedule - begins tomorrow. You can expect a far more light-hearted offering for the most part, as Gene and Alex's long anticipated nuptials approach!**_

_**I owe a great deal of thanks to Charlotte and Jess for the long and in-depth discussions that have helped to inspire me and keep me going through a difficult patch, your support has just been immeasurable. And most of all, my lovely girlfriend Steph – I've been sitting here for 15 minutes trying to work out what to say and I'm still no closer, the love and support you've given me through writing this story is beyond words x**_

_**Thank you so much to those of you who have read, reviewed or spoken to me on my blog (to this day I still wonder who anonymously sent me the lyrics to Bigger than Us six months ago!) At the moment I am struggling with confidence in my writing. Please know that I appreciate every single review or comment or message more than you can ever know. **_

_**Thank you for following this story – and I hope to see you joining the usual suspects for the wedding of the (last) century :)**_


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